Follow me down
by Felix Felicius
Summary: Sam's on the run, Dean is not himself, and John is hell bent on revenge. Sequel to "You could be happy."
1. Chapter 1 SOS

**Hey everyone! Judging from the anxious reviews a lot of you are more than excited for this to start already, so I hope this ends up being more than worth the wait for you all. And just to warn you, this chapter takes place 4 to 5 weeks after the last chapter of "You could be happy." Following chapters will then go back and fill in the time between this one and where the other story left off.**

**For those of you who are new to this story and haven't read the previous one I would strongly suggest reading the other story first because, well, you wouldn't read the 7th Harry Potter book before the first one would you? lol.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

**S.O.S.**

_Skin head, dead head_  
_Everybody gone bad_  
_Situation, aggravation_  
_Everybody allegation_  
_In the suite, on the news_  
_Everybody dog food_  
_Bang bang, shot dead_  
_Everybody's gone mad..._

_They don't really care about us, Michael Jackson_

* * *

"Sam," a voice cut through the darkness. "Saaaammmmmy."

Sam didn't breath. He didn't dare make a sound. This was his nightmare. It was one he had been living for weeks now. It had all happened so gradually, yet so rapidly at the same time. Now here he was, alone in the darkness being tormented by the one person he had once trusted his life to. There was no one he could turn to. He didn't even trust himself.

"I know you're here Sammy," the voice taunted. "Come out and play with me baby brother."

Sam bit his lip hard. Dean was getting closer. He had to get away. Suddenly he just had to get away. He didn't want to die. Not this way. Not at the hands of his own brother. While he didn't exactly value his life the way he used to, he knew that this was not how he wanted to go. He remembered how he had willingly given up his life for his brother just weeks before. It had been all he wanted. Dean's life had been the legacy he wanted to leave behind. Why couldn't it have stayed that way? Why did Dean have to fight so hard for him, only to turn around and try to kill him himself?

Sam rubbed his eyes tiredly. He had been running for so long. It seemed that he was destined to run for the rest of his life. Listening with all his might, Sam barely dared to breath. For all his rowdiness, Dean could be quieter than a fly on the wall if he wanted to be.

He was hiding along the back wall of what he could only guess was a kitchen. In his hand he held a frying pan, another indication of the room's purpose. Pan in one hand, his other hand traced the cabinets and shelving along the wall as he moved in the darkness searching for a way out of this room and away from Dean.

"Sammy," Dean's voice called out again. "Or should I call you Samantha for hiding out in a kitchen?"

Sam paused momentarily. For all he could know, Dean was right behind him; his voice had sounded that close. He took a deep breath and continued on. He had to get out of here. Reaching the end of the wall, Sam turned and followed the next wall. He felt the cold metal of what could only be a refrigerator beneath his hand. He gripped the frying pan handle tight within his hand. He really didn't want to have to use it, especially against his own brother, but things had changed. He didn't know how they could have changed so drastically and he was sure there was something more behind this than met the eye, but once again, now was defiantly not the time to think about it. There never did seem a good time to think about how and why his life had gotten so messed up.

Sam froze. His heartbeat was thunder in his ears.

"Hiya Sammy boy," Dean said. Sam could feel Dean's warm breath on his neck. "Got ya."

Sam didn't speak. He swung. Then he ran.

* * *

John walked cautiously around his truck, shot gun in hand. He had just arrived in this empty looking shell of a town and if he had half a mind, he would be high tailing it out of there right away. But he didn't have half a mind, much less half of a half of a mind. He was running on pure instinct as he always did in situations like these which he somehow always managed to find himself in. Trusting his instincts was how he had managed to get through the past few weeks. Though he wanted nothing more than to give up, the absolute need to take care of two things first kept him moving, kept him searching, mainly; finding Sammy and extinguishing his evil for good and saving Dean from from said evil.

He shook his head looked to the dark starless sky. Had messed up royally. His beloved Mary would never have failed their sons the way he had. One son gone bad, and the other left at the mercy of the first. It should never have come to that. Mary never would have allowed for this all to happen. She would never have stood for one of her beloved sons to turn away from them the way he had let Sam. It was because of this that he wished for hell. At least in hell, he wouldn't have to worry about facing Mary. He would only have to worry about Sam. At least he would have company. He smiled bitterly at the thought.

All was dark save for the dim light of a distant street lamp. The building he had pulled up to was as dark and featureless as the black skies above. He didn't dare pull out his flashlight for fear of being found out. Dean had been very clear on the phone that this town was being controlled by demons. How Dean had managed to camp out here undiscovered baffled him, but he had to admit he was proud. It seemed that his son had finally learned his lesson about demons from his experiences with Sam and was now using what he had learned to outsmart them.

These days, he and Dean were on better terms. They weren't back to normal by any means, but they were talking and regaining some semblance of trust between them and that was more than he could ever have hoped for. But of all the things to bring them back together, he never would have thought it would be a mutual understanding of how evil Sam was and about the need to take the boy out. Dean stood by his brother through thick and thin. He was just glad, Dean had realized that Sam wasn't worth standing by anymore. He only hoped that it wouldn't be too late to save Dean from his misplaced trust in his brother.

"Dad, you were right about Sam."

Those were the words that had reunited them; simple word spoken timidly through a small cell phone in the middle of the night.

"Sam's with me and he's not the same. He... I'm sorry I ever doubted you."

That was all that had been said at that time. It had been a message left on his phone, one of many, but the first to acknowledge how right he had been all this time about Sam. Overall, he had had his suspicions that Sam wasn't as dead as they thought he was so that information hadn't shocked him too much. He didn't worry himself with how Sam had seemingly risen from the dead, he didn't care. He did care however, that Sam was alone with Dean. He had already lost one son, he wasn't about to lose another; especially at the hands of the said lost son no less.

As soon as he had heard the message, he had turned around and head back to Bobby's but by the time he had reached Bobby's place, all he found was a bruised and broken Bobby and a destroyed salvage yard. It had looked like a hurricane had happened upon the relatively small area. It had been both impressive and worrying. If Sam was capable of doing what he had done to Bobby and his place, then how could he and Dean ever hope to apprehend him?

Those thoughts had plagued his mind throughout the weeks he had spent searching for Dean and Sam. Their trail was almost nonexistent and if not for Dean's phone calls, he never would have been able to find them at all.

As of this moment, he was extremely worried for Dean. In his last phone call, Dean had sounded so scared and alone; nothing like the overconfident 21, almost 22, year old he was. Even as a child, he had never heard Dean sound so frightened. The only words Dean had gotten out were terrified whispered pleas of "Help me" over and over again before the line went dead. He couldn't get to his son fast enough after that and now here he was, quietly creeping around in the darkness, hoping and praying that Dean was still alive.

A faint sound coming from inside the building made him tense. In the suffocating silence surrounding him the sudden noise was magnified. He walked closer to the building and followed the wall until he was at the entrance to the hotel. The faint moonlight caressed the intricately carved front doors, highlighting the detailed woodwork that had gone into their creation.

John gave a cursory glance around himself. It was all very disconcerting. When he had pictured a town being controlled by demons, somehow this was not what he had pictured. The fact that he had been so easy allowed into the town as if nothing was amiss, had him on high alert.

Suddenly the front doors burst open and a figure shrouded in shadows came running out as if the very devil himself were chasing them. There was a clanking sound as the person lost grip of the object they were carrying in their haste to exit the building. the reflection of moonlight on its shinny curved surface revealed it to be a frying pan.

Strange.

"Sam!" a voice shouted out from inside.

John knew that voice. It was Dean. And if what he said was true, then…

He took off after the fleeing figure.

"Dad!"

John didn't even look back. His gaze was on one thing and one thing only. He saw nothing but red. Bringing up his shot gun, he aimed and fired. Multiple shots rang out as the figure ran on and dodged the shots, suddenly taking on a weaving pattern that led toward the shelter of another building. Determined to not let him get away, John took new aim and fired again. This time, the figure wasn't as lucky as they crumpled to the ground in a heap.

Satisfaction dawned on John's face as he approached the now whimpering figure. Sam would pay for making Dean suffer and then he would send Sam to hell, where he belonged.

* * *

The sound of the pan making contact with Dean's head made him cringe and he regretted the action instantly, but when faced with death at his brother's hands, it certainly was better this way. Not even looking to see how Dean was doing, he took off.

All was dark and due to his captivity he didn't have a clue where anything was so if it was there, he ran into it. After running into several walls and tripping over a stool, Sam found himself colliding with what he could only guess was a food cart. The sound of metal hitting metal and the cart rolling over was sure to alert Dean of where he had gone, if not the entire town. That was something he did not need. The whole place was crawling with demons. And if that wasn't enough, they were all out for his blood because of Azazel.

As he laid there sprawled on the ground, he had to admit that he could stand them not being happy with him. The thought of them fawning over him and looking up to him made him sick. It reminded him of his time in the warehouse when he had been, for all intents and purposes, a leader for all the demons in the area. It was something he would rather forget.

"Not playing nice Sammy?" Dean's voice drifted through the hall. He was getting closer.

A fat load of help the frying pan had been. Sam sighed. In reality, he had not hit him that hard at all. For all his brother had done, he still cared for him. That, and he was exhausted, hurt, and emotionally drained. It had been a long couple of weeks since his return to the land of the living and he had not had a decent chance to rest from it all. It had been go go go from the start. First their dad, then Dean; everyone was turning on him now. Living was so over rated.

As he picked himself off of the ground he had to smile. Now that he had no one behind him, he had decided that life was worth living, but when Dean had been there fighting for him to come back, he had not wanted any part of it. How twisted was that? Continuing on his way, Sam vaguely remembered that the entrance had to be around here somewhere.

Behind him, he heard Dean curse as he tripped over the cart. Dean was closer than he thought. He quickened his pace. Where was that entrance? Turning a corner he found it was a straight shot to the main entry way. From the dim light coming in from the window above the front doors, he saw that he had a clear path. He took off at a run.

"I see you," Dean taunted. He sounded like he was right behind him. It spurred him on faster toward freedom.

Bursting through the doors, he heard Dean call out one more time, but he was already free. He ran like the wind and didn't look back. The streets were empty. but, there was no doubt in his mind that demons were watching his every move. They were there, hiding behind curtains, their dark eyes hiding thoughts of how to best send him to hell for the perceived wrong he had committed against them.

Behind him, he heard footsteps and Dean's voice, but he couldn't make out what Dean was saying over the sounds of his own breathing. Dean really wasn't going to let him go easily. Suddenly gun shots broke the relative silence in the air. Panicking, he started moving erratically to avoid the bullets as he moved closer to the nearest building he could reach.

For a moment, all was quiet again, and Sam thought he was home free. The doors of the building he was rapidly approaching were rushing to meet him. But all of that was taken from him when he felt the searing pain that could only mean that he had been shot. Another bullet ripped into him and fell clumsily to the ground. It was then that all the pain from the previous weeks that he had been able to forget about, due to the adrenaline running through him, rushed back to the surface and overwhelmed him.

In a pain filled haze, he pushed himself up to see his shooter. Shock and fear gripped his whole being as he realized that his dad was the one with the gun and was advancing toward him menacingly.

He had never in all his wild imaginings, thought that his dad would be here. With all his focus on Dean, he had completely forgotten about his father. Now he was frozen, unable to think, unable to act. All he could think of was that he was going to die and it would be at his father's hand. However, if he had thought that dying at Dean's hand was not an option, then dying at his father's hand was certainly not something he was going to take lying down.

A brutal kick to his chest brought him back to the present. As he stared down the barrel of his own father's shot gun, Sam did something he had vowed he would never again do. He didn't even know if it would work since it had been a while and he didn't have the same conviction he had had before, but he tried. It was all he could do. Right now, all he could think about was surviving.

* * *

As John stared down at Sam, he was surprised to see the utter fear that had overcome the boy. In grim triumph, he kicked the boy and pointed his shot gun straight down at him, hovering just inches from the boys face. It was cruel, him aiming his gun point blank at his own son, but the world had to be rid of the great evil before him, no matter if it was technically his son.

Suddenly, the fearful aura that had engulfed Sam disappeared and was replaced with a determination so strong, that John took notice. Staring into the boy's eyes, he saw fire there. It was so much like the Sam he used to know that it made him pause and think, but only for a moment.

A moment was all Sam needed.

Beneath his grip, the gun suddenly grew too hot to handle. Dropping it, he took a step backwards and cradled his hand. Sam let out a cry as he struggled to move backwards away from him.

"You'll have to do more than that to get away from me alive," John said gruffly.

It seemed that Sam had exhausted whatever strength he had drawn from to heat the gun with his freaky powers.

"Please," he heard Sam whisper futilely. "Everything isn't as it seems."

John smirked.

"Dean's not right," Sam fought out.

"You're the one who's not right," John said.

Sam didn't respond. He seemed to be looking at a point beyond him. Following his gaze, he saw that Dean was rushing over to join him. He turned back to Sam.

"Let's see you tell Dean to his face that he's not right in the head," he said viciously.

Sam only closed his eyes. John barely had the time to think about what that might mean before he was thrown backwards, flying through the air. Very vaguely, he remembered having gone through this before, but before he could think about that any further, the darkness of unconsciousness claimed him.

* * *

There was no convincing his dad. He was so set in his ways and beliefs. It was like teaching an old dog new tricks; it just didn't happen. And it would seem that everything he had done in the graveyard and the way he had sacrificed his life for Dean's was not enough to prove to his father that he was more than regretful about all he done and not at all that person who had so willingly followed the yellow eyed demon anymore.

The whole thing had been one big mishap; a series of unfortunate events if you will. Why couldn't his dad just accept that? Why couldn't they all just say that they had all done wrong and get on with forgiving each other and rebuilding their family? If he could see that with everything that he had suffered, with the way he had been used, and the many horrible things he had done, then surely his dad could? Nope, not John Winchester.

As he stared into the uncaring depths of his father's eyes he could only think of what it must be like to see the world in black and white as his father so obviously did. Behind the vengeful eyes of his father, he noticed movement. It was Dean. Noticing his gaze, John turned and caught sight of Dean as well.

"Let's see you tell Dean to his face that he's not right in the head," his dad said viciously.

Burying the sudden panic that had risen within him, Sam closed his eyes and concentrated once again. The little display of the gun heating up was merely a practice run. Focusing even harder, he imagined his dad flying backwards into Dean, effectively knocking out both of his pursuers.

When he opened his eyes, he found to his surprise and relief that it had worked. He wasn't sure how long though, so he quickly got into motion. Gritting his teeth he slowly stood up. His body was aching something horrible, and he was bleeding pretty badly. Judging from the pain, he had been shot in his arm and leg. He didn't know how bad though and wouldn't know until he had found a safer place to rest.


	2. Chapter 2 It came upon a midnight clear

**Chapter 2**

**It came upon a midnight clear**

_Words will land on me, then abandon me_  
_Mangle, untangle me, leave me on the floor_  
_Rhymes they sprang in me_  
_Summer sang in me_  
_But summer sings in me no more..._

_Winter, U2_

* * *

**Christmas Eve 2000**

"Sammy," a voice called out in the darkness. "It's time to wake up now."

Sam did nothing, not that he could have. He felt that if he were to move, he would regret it. Besides, he liked the ever present darkness that surrounded him. It didn't ask him to do things he didn't want to do and it didn't expect anything from him.

"Please," the voice pleaded again. "The doctor says that you're fine; that you should be awake now."

_Doctor?_

_Just where was he?_

He thought for a moment, then gave up. Who really cared anyway. What difference was it where it was. He didn't want to be anywhere alive. Screw this doctor. What did he know anyway? Sam stubbornly kept his eyes shut and his body still. He hoped that whoever was speaking would take a hint and leave him alone, but it seemed that whoever owned the voice was a little slow on the uptake.

"Look Sam," the voice continued. "I know you're awake. The nurses showed me what to look for."

He mentally groaned but didn't make any move to acknowledge that he had been found out. He wasn't speaking and that was that. The voice seemed to finally get a clue as the silence in the room grew. However, it wasn't the only thing that grew. A sense of deep sorrow began to permeate the room. Within minutes the feeling was suffocating Sam, shrouding him, bringing back the deep seated depression that he had yet to even begin to deal with.

"I'm not sorry Sam for what I did," the voice said. "And I would do again, even if you still ended up here in this hospital."

_Dean._

The voice was Dean. Who else would be here at his side? But if Dean was here, then that meant that their father was sure to be nearby. He almost opened his eyes to see if his dad was in the room, but restrained himself. If his dad was here, then he most definitely would not be alive in this hospital bed listening to Dean's pleas.

"You can't stay like this forever," Dean said. "You'll have to face the world someday."

"No," Sam faintly whispered. He couldn't help from speaking out this time.

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed.

As Sam finally opened his eyes, he found the blinding light of the room was blocked out by Dean's hovering form.

"I hate you," he uttered.

"Sam?" Dean said a frown on his face, his voice faltering.

"I hate you Dean," he said it stronger this time.

"You…what?" Dean said brokenly, backing away from Sam, allowing the light to blind him once more.

"Stay away from me," he told Dean, keeping his eyes shut from the bright light.

"But-"

"Go away!" Sam forced out. His throat felt raw and unused and a headache was starting to form behind his eyes. He couldn't deal with this right now. He turned away from Dean and watched as the door to his room opened and a man wearing a long white coat walked in. Just great. More questions. More expectations.

"Better late than never," the doctor said with what would've been a disarming smile if Sam hadn't been in such a sour mood. He walked up right beside Sam. "Hi there, I'm doctor Richardson."  
Sam didn't react in the slightest or give any inclination he had heard the man.

"Stubborn I see," the doctor commented, "Just like your brother here."

That got a reaction out of Sam when his eyes involuntarily narrowed in a glare at the comparison.

"Doc, I'll just..." Dean's words trailed off as the sounds of footsteps reached Sam's ears. He barely took notice of Dean walking toward the door, he only had eyes for the blissful darkness of unconsciousness.

"Wait son, don't leave just yet," the doctor called out. Sam watched as Dean slowed, a sudden frown on his face. "Just let me finish really quick and I'll be right with you."

_Great, more talking about him behind his back._

Sam glared at the doctor as the he went about fussing with the tubes and wires. The doctor then pulled out a syringe filled with a red liquid. There was something about the way it called out to him that put on edge immediately.

"What...is that?" Sam said his voice gravely from lack of use over the past week.

The doctor smiled.

"Just a little something to get you back up to speed," he answered.

Sam frowned as he watched the doctor go directly to his arm rather than through the IV in his hand. Noticing this the doctor smiled reassuringly before breaking the skin in the inside of this elbow and emptying the syringe of its contents into Sam's bloodstream. Putting the syringe back in his pocket, the doctor pulled out another, this time, filled with a clear liquid, and injected it into Sam's IV.

"What's that?" Sam questioned never really cared about these sorts of things before, just wanting to let the doctors do whatever they wanted so he could be free of the confines of the hospital sooner, but this time, his senses were on alert. There was a nagging feeling of danger growing within him that he couldn't quite decipher. There was also a rising heat that was spreading throughout his body radiating from where the doctor had injected him. It was strangely familiar and not in a good way.

"What are you...doing?" Everything was getting foggy.

"Just relax Sam," the doctor said. "Don't fight it. You'll feel so much better when you wake up"

The doctor winked at him.

"You're going to need all the strength you've got when you get out of here," the doctor said with a sly smile. "Trust me Sam, it's not over until I say it is."  
Alarm bells went off in Sam's head and he tried calling out for Dean but he couldn't get his mouth to work properly. As the world around him started fading in and out, he heard the doctor start talking to Dean. The last thing he saw was the doctors evil smile as the man looked back at him before turning back to Dean and walking out of the room. Within minutes Sam was off on an involuntary journey into the darkness of unconsciousness.

* * *

When Sam opened his eyes again, there was light streaming in from the window. This time his eyes were better adjusted and he didn't feel the need to close them right away. The pain he had felt before was almost all but gone as well. For a moment his mind was blissfully empty, but then the foggy memory of the doctor and his less than reassuring words crashed the brief serenity he had manged to wake to. He looked around the room on high alert, but the only person he saw was hunched over and dead to the world around him, softly snoring.  
Neither the demon nor Dean were anywhere in sight. They had to get out of here. The demon was here, he was back. Sam could feel his heartbeat speeding up. Panic was slowly taking a hold of him. He thought of the syringe and the burning, energizing feeling that had spread through his body after it had been injected. It had left him feeling just like when...he had drank Ruby's...blood. The more he thought of about it, the more he couldn't breath. He was in full out panic mode now. The machines around him started going off as black dots started dancing in his line of sight.  
"What the..." Sam turned toward the voice, his eyes bulging. "Dammit kid."

Bobby rushed to his side and tried in vain to calm him down, eventually resorting to pressing he call button on the side of the bed.

"No Bobby!" Sam gasped out. "You can't!"

Sam cursed Dean. Why did he have to bring him back to this? Death was the only escape from all this. Demons would always hunt him as long as he was on this earth. They would always seek him out for his specialness. At least in hell he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone that didn't deserve it.

He watched as Bobby shook his head and rushed to the door screaming out into the hall for help as the sound of the machines filled the air. When he caught sight of the medical staff rushing into the room, Sam lost it even more.

"DEMONS!" Sam screamed before his whole body started convulsing, his eyes rolling back in his head.

* * *

When he next woke, it was to a hazy new world. His thoughts were muddled and his tongue felt fuzzy. Blearily he looked around and noticed that Dean was back.

"He's awake."

Sam looked at where the voice came from and saw Bobby getting up from the same chair he had been sitting in before. Dean didn't move from his seat, simply looked in his direction.

"How ya feeling boy?" Bobby questioned.

Sam didn't speak. He just moved his tongue around in his mouth trying to get rid of that fuzzy feeling.

"They drugged you up something crazy," Bobby said noticing Sam's look of distaste. "Speaking of which," Bobby started, "What was all that?"

"Christo," Sam coughed out, his throat suddenly aching.

Bobby rolled his eyes and grabbed a cup of water off Sam's bedside table. He helped Sam to drink some before looking at Sam expectantly.

"The doctor," Sam said, "He's a demon."

Bobby looked at Dean who shrugged.

"It gave me its blood and drugged me so I wouldn't tell."

Bobby was silent.

"You don't believe me," Sam said quietly.

Bobby sighed and shook his head.

"The doc's clean," Bobby said, "As are all the nurses and staff. We checked when we first got here"

Sam frowned.

"Look Sam, after everything you've been through-"

"I'm not crazy, I know what I saw," Sam huffed. "I know what I heard."

"Demon blood?" Bobby said. "You gotta know how crazy that sounds."

Sam narrowed his eyes. Bobby had a look in his eyes that spoke volume of how he felt about Sam. And one of those feelings was pity. Sam inwardly seethed.

_Let's all feel pity for the obviously crazy little boy in the hospital bed, _he thought.

Silence reined as he examined his hands sullenly.

_Sardonic much?_

Sam took in a sharp intake of breath. He looked at Bobby; at Dean. None of them looked like they had spoken.

"Sam?" Bobby asked.

Sam turned back to Bobby noticing once again the pity held within them. He wanted to take that pity and throw it out the window, but there didn't seem to be anything he could about it without making that pity grow further in Bobby. How could he convince them he was serious, that he was still in danger, that they all were?

"Werewolves, shape shifters, Vampires," he said shaking his head, "You know how crazy they all sound? And they're real!"

"Sam," Bobby said, "You're not making any sense-"

"What is there to make sense? "Sam said angrily. "The demons aren't done with me and that doctor is a demon! Hell, they all might be!"

"Sam calm down-"

Sam looked Bobby directly in the eye. As the anger grew so did the clarity in which he saw the world around him. The drug filled haze he had awoken from, was all but a blip in the past.

"I am _not_ lying."

The intensity of his gaze was so strong that Sam didn't know how ling he stayed that way, until he heard Dean's voice calling out in a panic.

"Stop it Sam!"

Dean had his hands on his shoulders and was shaking him.

Sam looked at Dean and frowned. It was then that he noticed Bobby bent over gasping for air. Shock gripped him as he slowly realized that he had done that; that he had done that with his gaze, just by looking at him. Just what kind of freak was he?

Evil laughter in his head greeted him at that question as if to ask him if he had seriously posed that question. This was taking the term dark side way too literally. He had never done that before, never known he could and never wanted to go there ever again. but it seemed that simply not wanting to touch that side of him was not enough. He shrugged off Dean hands and cursed him once again for being so diligent in bringing him back to the land of the living. Living wasn't living when you were a danger to those you cared about. He couldn't live this way.

He wouldn't.

And so he shut down. Just like that. Everything went black around him. And his cares and worries faded away.

* * *

As Bobby sat in the aftermath of nearly being choked to death his thoughts were a jumbled mess. How did Sam do that? And his eyes... Bobby shook his head of the thought. Hazel eyes had gone black as the night sky as the air in his lungs had ceased to flow. It was horrifying and confusing at the same time. Sam wasn't a demon, he had barely just said christo minutes before, yet the eyes...

Bobby stood up abruptly and walked toward the door. Barely glancing at the horrified look that was now plastered all over Sam's face.

And all this talk of demons and demon blood...Surely the boy knew that one of the first things they would check on would be whether the hospital was supernaturally safe. They had lined the room with salt the moment they were alone and drawn devils traps and other protections all over the room, well-hidden of course, but they were there. No demon could get into this room. What he feared was that after everything he had been through, Sam had become paranoid of everything around him. It seemed like Sam was seeing things that weren't there and attacking people, like him, based on non-existent fears. It saddened him to see Sam this way, but he had hope that it would only be temporary.

Bobby thought of what their next move should be.

He sighed. They had to get out of here. And the sooner the better. Sam needed help, but not the help that a hospital could give. They had most likely done all they could for the boy's physical injuries. What Sam needed was something to get rid of the effects of the yellow eyed demon, if that was even possible. But first they needed to figure out just what they boy had gone through during his time away from them and if it involved demon blood, well...they would cross that bridge when they got there. It sure wouldn't be an easy sell though. Bobby doubted that Sam wanted to relive any of it more than they want to hear of what he had gone through, but it had to be done in the name of recovery. He was determined to see to it that that boy got better. Whereas their daddy always left when things got tough, that sort of mentality was not in Bobby's genes.

He turned his back to the door and walked back toward his chair. It was then he noticed how silent the room had become save for Dean's repeated calls for Sam's attention. He must have been really into his thoughts to not notice them.

"Bobby," Dean said looking over to him. "Sam's...not...I don't know. He won't do anything, he's-"

"Still breathing?" Bobby said moving closer to Sam.

Dean nodded.

"Sammy," Bobby said sharply, "You hear me boy?"

Sam simply stared ahead. He was still, save for the breaths he took and the blinking of his eyes.

"Sam," Bobby said, panic creeping in on him. "It's OK."

Sam didn't react.

"Well get through this Sam," Bobby said, "I promise."

He looked to Dean, who looked just as worried as he felt. It was a nice change from the indifferent lump he had been since the morning.

"I'll get the doctor," Dean said.

Bobby nodded and let him go.

* * *

Life went on Sam supposed. Days had probably passed by, weeks even, how was he to know? Every now and then he caught a glimpse at what was going on around him. He would see the doctors and nurses come in and point flashlights at his eyes, inject him with who knows what, and do other countless things. He heard a lot of words being thrown about like vegetative and dissociated. He also heard Bobby's pleas for him to come back. But the voice he did not hear strangely enough, was Dean. There were no words of reassurance, of comfort. Nothing.

It seemed that Dean had finally gotten the message he had trying so hard to send him over the past few days. It didn't mean that he was happy about it though. But it was what he deserved, and it was high time the people around him realized that. He was monster who needed a bullet to the head and a good salt and burn, not a heart to heart. But a heart to heart was looking more and more like it would be in his future if he ever chose to return to land of the conscious. What he needed was his father. That man would surely put a bullet in him at first sight. Sam had to admire the irony in that statement. The one time he needed he father was for the man to shoot him. That spoke volumes about the sad state of their relationship. But how was he to find the man, with Bobby and Dean around him?

Out in the world, he heard something about checking out of the hospital. Bobby disappeared from his view and for a moment he thought that he was alone. It would be the perfect time to slip away unnoticed. But then he caught sight of Dean appearing next to his bed with a pile of clothes. He was so not gonna watch this. Just as he was about to tune out, Dean looked up at him and waved a hand in front of his face.

"Anybody home Lucy?" he said sarcastically.

In normal circumstances Sam would've said something about the inappropriateness of that comment, but he wasn't really in the mood to do anything but stare at his brother. Looking into the other man's eyes, Sam saw that there was something different about them. Something had changed. After everything that had happened to their family, was it so hard to believe that those events had changed Dean as well? Sam didn't know why, but he just couldn't imagine anything affecting his unflappable brother. He was like the man of steel. Nothing penetrated that rock solid exterior of his. Unless...

_Nah._

Dean was an honors student from the school of sticks and stones. Words didn't affect Dean. But maybe he wasn't giving himself enough credit on how his own words could have the power to affect his brother. Guilt crept into his mind and started to grow.

_Crap._

He hated him, then he felt sorry for hating him. He hated his brothers reassurances, then missed them when they were no longer there. What was it gonna be? He couldn't be all bipolar about his own brother. Suddenly he felt a prick on the inside of his elbow.

"Well, that was one way of getting that out of you," Dean said sheepishly, Yet there was something in the way he said it that made Sam believe that Dean was up to something. It was just something in his brothers tone that after years of living with him, he could spot a mile away. Besides, didn't they only draw blood from that spot? IV's were typically in the hands.

It was then that Bobby came back in with a doctor trailing in after him. After his experience with the demon doctor, Sam didn't really have any sort of fondness for any of the doctors that came to see him. So, not really caring to see what this doctor had come to do and knowing that with Bobby and Dean here, the doctor, demon or not, couldn't pull anything on him, he let himself drift away.

As he let himself relax, he realized just how good his body felt. For a moment he simply enjoyed it all, but once he allowed himself to think why he felt this way, he came crashing down from his brief high.

It was the blood.

And to feel this good, meant he had had more than just what that demon doctor had given him. It was a sickening thought for him.

Out in real world, Sam could feel his body being moved, out of the room, out of the hospital, and into Bobby's truck. It was strange to watch Dean get him into the truck and then walk away from him and go to the Impala alone. Usually, Dean always kept Sam with him. It was a just another change that he added to the growing list of ways his brother had changed as a result of the past month.

As the drove, he could feel Bobby's glances and his anxiousness. It wouldn't be too long until Bobby started talking out of a sheer need to fill the silence. And right on cue, Bobby started spouting off about how they had missed Christmas and what they were going to do to make up for it.

Sam let his mind wander.

He thought of what he would say when he finally faced Dean and Bobby. He struggled to find the words that he would say, the words he would use to explain himself, but he found there were none that could possibly explain the depth of remorse and self-hatred he felt.

_You only hate that you were caught._

It was the voice again.

_That's not true,_ Sam thought back.

_Seriously, what would you have done if you had not met your family in that cemetery? What if they had never found you?_

Sam was silent. It was a valid question and he didn't have an answer.

_That's what I thought._

Sam's mood sunk even deeper. Now his own conscience was berating him and talking back to him. It didn't much more worse than this.

_You think that Sammy boy. Tell yourself that life can't get nay worse than this, tell yourself that I am just a figment of your mind. Go ahead._

Sammy boy?

There was only one person who had ever called him that. A shiver of fear ran through him.

"Go away," Sam whispered.

_Go away? You really think that will work?_

"Please," Sam whimpered. It couldn't be.

_Right, because you're asking so nicely I'll just head on out and leave you alone._

"Really?" Sam thought cynically, knowing the answer he would get.

_No dim bulb, I was being sarcastic. Didn't work before, won't work one bit right now._

Sam felt his heart beat faster. He let a groan.

_You can moan and groan all you want. I'm stuck here._

"Just get out," Sam pleaded, this time almost begging.

_I can't Sammy boy and you wanna know why?_

"No," Sam replied.

"Sam?" he heard another voice ask.

_I'm you Sam. You are me. We are one. Can't run from your own mind can you?_

"Leave me alone," Sam pleaded urgently, raising his hands and clawing at his head."Leave me alone!"

"Sam what's wrong?" the other voice asked.

"Get out of my head!" he screamed. There were too many voices.

The only answer he received was echoing laughter bouncing around inside his head.

* * *

Bobby let out a relieved sigh as he finally caught sight of his house in the distance. Idle chit chat was not really his thing, and it didn't help when the only other person in the vehicle was lights on nobody home. Letting the silence retake its hold over them both, Bobby glanced at Sam.

_Yup, still asleep. _

Sam sat as still as ever, the only thing keeping him up being his seat belt. Bobby put his eyes back on the road ahead.

A low muttering brought his attention back to the passenger seat. A tentative hope filled him as he caught sight of Sam's barely moving lips. He strained his ears to try and understand was Sam was saying.

"Just get out," Sam muttered.

Bobby raised his eyebrows, not sure what to make of obviously coming to, the boy was still miles away off in his own little world. He listened closely, hoping for some further clue as to what was troubling the boy now.

"No," Sam said, louder this time.

"Sam?" he asked, but Sam went on as he hadn't heard a thing.

Bobby mentally sighed in relief as he pulled to a stop in front of his house. At least he wouldn't be in a moving vehicle should Sam get any worse. As he went to unfasten his seat beat, Sam's voice grew even louder.

"Leave me alone," Sam pleaded urgently, his hands suddenly clawing at his head."Leave me alone!"

Bobby paused as if frozen as he caught sight of the rapidly appearing vivid red scratches that were starting to seep blood down Sam's face.

"Sam what's wrong?" Bobby asked reaching over to try and stop Sam from hurting himself any further. Taking both Sam's arms within his grasp, he called out for Dean who had pulled to a stop behind them in the Impala. This was too much for him to handle alone.

"Get out of my head!" Sam suddenly screamed.

He called out for Dean again as Sam finally got the best of him and struggled out of his grasp. Frantically, Sam reached for the door handle and yanked it so hard that door practically flew open. Stumbling and falling out on the ground in a heap, Sam picked himself up and made a run for it, not seeming to really care where he was going, just that he was going somewhere.

Shaking his head and cursing the fact that he was getting too old for this, Bobby threw himself out of his truck and took off after Sam who had taken off back toward the road they had just come from. Sam ran like a drunk man, having been confined to his hospital bed for the better part of a week. However, it seemed that his will power was more than enough to make up for any physical weakness he might have had.

Behind him, he heard other steps and was relieved to see Dean come up at this side and then surge forward toward Sam. Slowing down, Bobby watched as Dean grabbed Sam from behind. Time seemed to slow as the two fell down to the ground; Sam's struggling causing Dean to trip over his own feet. Bobby cursed under his breath as he renewed his effort to reach them. Trust Dean to get himself hurt in the process of helping his own brother.

As he bent down to help them untangle themselves, Bobby was surprised to see Dean push him away silently as if to tell him that he would handle this. With a sigh and a nod, Bobby stepped back. He could only watch as Dean tenderly helped a sobbing Sam sit up before wrapping his arms around him and holding him tightly.

"Dean?" Sam asked.

"I'm here Sammy," Dean replied, "I'm here."

"I'm sorry, Dean, I'm so sorry," Sam said.

"What for?" Dean asked.

"I didn't mean it," Sam answered.

Bobby saw Dean sigh as he reassured Sam.

"I know you didn't mean it Sammy," Dean said. "It's okay."

"No its not," Sam said. "He won't leave me alone."

Dean pulled Sam from his grasp and looked him in the eyes.

"Who?" he asked.

"The demon," Sam whispered, as if saying it out loud would awaken it once more. "He's in my head."

For a brief moment, Bobby saw uncertainty in Dean's eyes as he struggled to come up with an answer to that one.

"He can't be Sam," Dean finally answered. "We killed him remember?"

Sam only looked at Dean and shook his head.

"He's there Dean, and he won't leave me alone," Sam said, before dissolving into a sobbing mess once more. "Make it stop Dean, make it stop!"

Bobby watched as Dean bit his lip. It was hard to see the normally rough and tumble man before him, so heartbroken and unsure of how to make everything better for his broken brother. He started shushing Sam and rocking him back and forth. It seemed to work, but only for a few minutes.

"Why?" Sam suddenly spoke. "Why do all these bad things keep happening to me, to us? Does God hate us that much?"

Dean shushed Sam and held him closer, obviously not knowing what, if anything, he could say to counter that.

"It's because of me isn't it?" Sam said. "If I wasn't here then mom would be here and you and dad would be happy."

"That's not true-"

Sam pulled away from Dean.

"You know it is," Sam argued. "Demon's lie, but they base it off of some small truth."

Dean took Sam's shoulder's in his hands and held him firmly.

"He's wrong," Dean said. "Whatever that demon told you, whatever truth he based that off of, he had to twist it and bend it so much to get that from it."

Sam went on as if hadn't heard a word Dean said.

"I wished for it you know," Sam said.

"Wished for what?" Dean asked.

Sam let out a giggle.

"To never have been born," Sam was smiling like a kid on a sugar high.

If Bobby was unsettled by Sam's sudden mood change, then Dean looked downright terrified.

Dean could only shake his head.

"Why?" Dean mouthed.

"You know what I saw?" Sam said. "I saw you. And you were normal. You had birthday parties, football, a wife, a kid, you had mom…"

Sam trailed off, getting a faraway look in his eyes.

"You didn't have me there," Sam said. "You didn't have your demon loving, traitor, of a murdering brother."

A self loathing glare was now firmly in place on Sam's face.

"Sam-"

As the tears fell down his face, Sam shook his head and pointed a shaking finger at Dean.

"You can't deny it," he accused. "Dad knew it. That's why he left. That's why he never loved me."

A gust of chilled air blew over the trio. Bobby inadvertently shivered. Up above them, the graying skies threatened snow.

"Dad is…" Dean trailed off, seemingly unable to find words powerful enough to describe how he felt about the man. "You helped kill the yellow eyed demon. Without you, we would all be dead. So before you think that you're all sin and hell fire, think about that. And that other demon? You killed her all by yourself."  
Sam only shook his head.

"No Sam," Dean persisted. "Don't you forget about me. I'm sitting here alive, because you gave up your own life for me. And not only that, you came back to this crazy world to save me again."

"It's not enough," Sam whispered miserably, "Never enough."

"It is for me," Dean assured Sam. "Things will get better Sam. You'll see. I'll make it better."

Sam looked at Dean unbelieving.

"What if you can't make it better?" he asked. "What if I've messed things up too badly?"

Dean smiled, even if it looked like he didn't feel like smiling.

"There's nothing a big brother like me can't fix for his baby brother, especially a determined one like me," he said.

In that moment, Bobby felt a pride so strong, it overwhelmed him. Trust Dean to give hope a chance to rise among them.

Sam smiled slightly.

"I wish I could believe that," Sam said forlornly. Before he leaned forward into Dean's arms and sagged against him. "I'm so tired Dean," Sam whispered.

Dean nodded and wrapped his strong protective arms around Sam once more.

"Sleep Sammy," he whispered back. "I'll be here when you wake up. Things will be better then, you'll see."

Sam mumbled something before losing himself to the pull of unconscious slumber. All was peaceful and quiet for the next few minutes as both Bobby and Dean processed just what had happened. Bobby was glad it had happened sooner than later.

At least now things could only get better.


	3. Chapter 3 Wake up

**Chapter 3**

**Wake up**

_I've seen enough now_  
_To know that beautiful things_  
_Don't always stay that way_  
_I've done enough now_  
_To know this beautiful place_  
_Isn't everything they say…_

_The river, Good Charlotte_

* * *

_"Things will get better Sam. You'll see. I'll make it better."_

Sam closed his eyes and let the memory of his brother's voice wash over him.

_"There's nothing a big brother like me can't fix for his baby brother, especially a determined one like me."_

Sam sighed, wanting nothing more than to have that hope; to believe that Dean could fix anything.

_"Sleep Sammy," _Dean had whispered. _"I'll be here when you wake up. Things will be better then, you'll see."_

A tear fell down his cheek as he remembered those words. Oh how he had trusted that they would be true, that Dean would be there when he woke up. But that had not been the case. When he had opened his eyes the next morning, Dean had been nowhere in sight. He hadn't even been in the house. Outside, the Impala was nowhere to be seen either.

After finding Bobby, he had found out that Dean had left before the sun had even risen. Bobby had tried to convince him to stay but Dean had been adamant that he needed to get away; that he needed a break…from Sam.

_"I can't stay here dad," Dean said suddenly. "I need a break."_

_"A break?" dad said irrediculously, "From what?"_

_"Sam."_

_"He's your brother Dean-"_

_"He's your son."_

More tears followed as the horrid memory was dredged up. It was happening all over again, only this time, their dad wasn't there to argue with Dean. That role was now Bobby's and it sounded like he had been about as effective as their dad had been all those weeks ago. Now, as he sat by the window and gazed out into Bobby's yard, it was all he could think of. He hated how easy it was for him to cry like a little girl. But he didn't particularly care enough to stop. Hadn't he been through enough to earn that right?

Outside, Dean was tinkering with the Impala. Ever since Dean had come back later that day, Sam had not talked to him. In the resulting silence, Dean had resorted to spending his time in the yard. He did try, boy did he try, to get Sam to talk to him, but Sam had turned away at every avenue. Sam just couldn't bring himself to hear Dean's platitudes and explanations. This was the second time that Dean had left him, claiming that he needed to get away from him as if he were a plague. He wasn't about to give Dean a third time to mangle his fragile trust.

"You ever gonna give him a chance?" Bobby asked.

Sam nearly jumped out of his seat from surprise. He was easily startled these days. As he turned around to look at Bobby, he saw the sadness and pity directed at him, again. Anger filled him at the thought. He turned back to the window and stared at Dean who was bent over the open hood of the Impala. As if sensing his gaze, Dean chose that moment to look up directly at where Sam was staring back at him. Sam quickly looked away.

"He said he would be back before you woke up," Bobby continued obviously not getting that Sam wasn't in a talking mood.

"Stop trying to defend him," Sam said quietly.

Bobby was silent.

"He knew what he was doing," Sam said. "He's done this before."

"Sam-"

"No Bobby," Sam said. "The last time he left me, I ended up getting caught up with the yellow eyed demon. I won't let it happen again."

Bobby folded his arms across his chest.

"So you're not ever going to talk to him again?" Bobby said skeptically.

Sam paused and thought about how ridiculous that sounded. He still loved his brother, no matter how strained that love was at the moment. He couldn't imagine not having his brother in his life; not being able to talk to him; to confide in him and laugh with him. But at the same time, with everything he had gone through and was still going through, he just couldn't let Dean in. Sam rubbed his eyes forcefully and then dropped them into his lap abruptly.

"I don't know," Sam answered. "I just don't know!"

"Whoa Sam," Bobby said, rushing over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay."

Outside, Sam noticed that Dean had stopped working and was staring at him again. With an angry sigh, Sam shrugged off bobby's hand and stood up.

"It's not," Sam said. "It's not okay."

He walked away toward the stairs.

"Sam," Bobby called out, "Stop."

Sam ignored and started up the stairs, intent on a quick getaway.

"Dean won't tell you this, but I will."

This got Sam to stop mid step. He didn't turn around, but he turned his head slightly to hear whatever Bobby had to say.

"You never did ask why you were in the hospital," Bobby started.

Sam shrugged.

"Didn't care," he replied and that was the truth. He could have been dying or whatever other reason people were brought to hospitals for, but it wasn't his concern. It was Dean's fault he was there at all.

"You were there because of Dean," Bobby answered.

Sam rolled his eyes.

"Tell me something I don't know," he said sardonically. If all Bobby was going to tell him were stuff he already knew, he wasn't going to stick around and hear it.

"Wait," Bobby pleaded. "I know you're thinking about Dean and his whole suicidal plan to get you back, he told me about that."

Sam sigh and paused on the next step.

"Dean...he shot you Sam," Bobby explained, "We didn't even realize it until you had nearly bled out on my couch."

Sam frowned; he didn't remember anything like that happening. He turned around and faced Bobby.

"Doc said you were pretty messed up, gunshot wound aside," Bobby said, "I don't think it even registered to you when it happened. Dean said you didn't act like you had been shot."

Sam tilted his head.

"There's a way you're supposed to act when you are shot?" he said with a roll of his eyes. He turned away. "I'll remember that next time."

"Boy," Bobby barked out.

Sam huffed and looked over his shoulder.

"What?" he asked frustrated.

"Dean's been blaming himself ever since. He blames himself for your being so unhappy, for putting you in the hospital, for getting you in this whole mess in the first place."

Sam raised his eyebrows.

"And your point is?"

Bobby frowned.

"A little understanding would be nice is all," he explained.

"Is that all?" Sam asked bored.

Bobby sighed deflatedly, and nodded his head.

Sam quickly turned away and rushed up the stairs.

When he finally got to the room that he and Dean were sharing for the time being, he just stood there. He didn't bother to close the door behind him. He didn't bother to go to his bed. He just stood there in silence. Downstairs, he could hear Dean come in and start talking with Bobby. No doubt he was asking about what he had seen through the window and the raised voices.

He thought of the words Bobby spoken about Dean's guilt. Served him right, Sam thought angrily. But as soon as the thought played out in his mind, a horrible feeling of guilt came over him. How could he be so satisfied by another person's pain? He felt like a demon, savoring Dean's pain. He couldn't help it, but that didn't make it any better. Satisfaction and guilt warred in his mind as he moved toward his bed and let himself fall onto it with an 'oomph.' For a moment, he just savored the softness of the bed and the momentary weightlessness he felt. However, the moment ended too soon when he realized that Dean was now yelling at Bobby and vice versa. Already worn out and emotionally drained, Sam took his pillow and put it over his head to drown out the sounds from downstairs.

It seemed that everyone in this house felt they needed to make up for the silence that had abounded in the previous days, by yelling at each other and arguing. It only served to remind him of the fights he had had with his dad and Dean, both before and during his whole ordeal with the yellow eyed demon. He held the pillow tight around his head in frustration. All the reminders were getting to him, accusing him, making him feel like he would never be able to move on. He clenched his eyes and let out a frustrated scream.

For the next few minutes, he let out all the anger and self-hate that he had been feeling ever since he had woken in the hospital into the muffling oasis of the pillow. When he had finally ran himself ragged and he had nothing more in himself to let out, he laid there trying to catch his breath. For a moment, he thought of what it would be like to let himself just suffocate under the pillow, there was nothing stopping him from doing that. He let the thought play out in his mind.

He imagined, letting the darkness claim him and take him away. he imagined how satisfied his father would be to find out he was truly dead once and for all. But when he thought of who would be the one to find him, the dream faded away. It would be Dean, he just knew it. Dean would come in here trying to talk to him. After several attempts, he would no doubt get suspicious and look closure. He imagined the grief hat would overcome Dean's face when he finally realized that Sam was no longer with him. That was if Dean didn't think he was sleeping and left him there for the night. The shock would only be that much worse when Dean realized that Sam had been gone for much longer and he had ignored him thinking him to be asleep.

_No._

He couldn't do that to his brother. He threw the pillow away from himself, watching as it landed on the floor next to Dean's bed. If he was going to die and do it right, he would rather do it where Dean couldn't find him. He would rather let Dean think he had simply run away. At least then, Dean would always have hope that he was alive where ever he was. No matter how cruel, Sam couldn't let Dean think of him as dead. He could only hope that when he found his dad that the man would agree to never tell Dean what had really happened to him. Hopefully his father's love for Dean would move him to spare him the pain of knowing he was dead. It was too much to hope for, but it was all he got. At least this way, he could make his peace with the world.

Dean would be free of him and the burdens he always seemed to place on Dean and his father would have the satisfaction of seeing him dead. He would be one less threat to the world and everyone would be happy. Or at least as happy as they ever would be which would be happier than they could ever be with him around. He knew Dean would never be quite the same after everything was said and done, but he had to hope that Dean would learn to move on and find and better life for himself.

He had to smile bitterly at the fact that he was planning his own death and so methodically at that.

_You really are something else ya know._

Sam groaned and turned away from the sight of the pillow. Falling back onto his back, he stared at the ceiling morosely.

_I mean, planning your own death so that you can make everyone around you happy once all is said and done? It really says a lot about how much you value their happiness over you own, even when they don't deserve it._

_Leave me alone, _Sam thought.

The voice continued on.

_You have to know that your plan is flawed._

Sam sighed and decided to humor the voice.

_In what way?_

_You think your father will be happy, that Dean will move on. But in the end...none of them will be truly anything even remotely resembling happy. The only one satisfied will be you; even as you rot in hell. It's actually quite selfish of you. I have to admit, I'm rather proud of you._

Sam shook his head in denial and turned on his side.

_You have to admit I'm true._

Sam closed his eyes.

_You can't be true because you don't exist, _Sam thought.

The voice laughed.

_Ah Sammy boy, but I do. I was created out of your selfishness. You don't go rummaging around in the head of a demon Sam without any consequence. If there's one playground you shouldn't have played in, it was Azazel's head._

Sam was quiet, his mind a blaze trying to comprehend what, well, he was telling himself? It was all too confusing.

A thought suddenly struck him like a lightning bolt.

_Ah yes, Ruby. You took a little dip in there too didn't you?_

The voice tutted.

_I won't even go there. Her mind is like a minefield. Who knows what you caught by going in there._

His morose mood only got worse as he realized the implications of what the voice was saying.

_But she was nothing, _Sam thought, _Just an expendable soldier. She was nowhere near Azazel's level of power._

The voice seemed to smile if that was even possible for a voice to do.

_Be that as it may, demons have many abilities that are unique to each one._

What do you mean? Sam asked.

The voice was silent.

Sam frowned. Great timing. He tried a new approach.

_How do you know so much?_

The voice seemed to roll its nonexistent eyes. It was strange how Sam knew these things.

_For someone so smart, you sure are dumb, the voice said. I am you, you are me. The human mind is not meant to see the mind of a demon._

Sam rolled his eyes.

_Human's aren't meant to be able to see into other minds period._

_Ah yes, it is rather, unnatural isn't it? But you did it. And now your mind has paid the price._

Sam waiting for further explanation, but got nothing but silence. Suddenly tired, Sam let himself drift off into an uneasy sleep as he contemplated the voice's words and the implications in them.

* * *

Blearily, Sam opened his eyes. The dimming light outside, told him that evening was coming. That meant he had slept for quite a while.

He frowned.

Sitting up in his bed, Sam listened hard. The house never was this quiet at this time of day. Usually, there would be sounds coming from the kitchen from whoever decided to prepare dinner that day. Usually there would be sounds coming from outside from whoever was out working in the yard. And at the bare minimum, there were the sounds of birds and other natural occurrences. This complete silence was more than a little unnerving to him.

Getting up quietly, Sam made his way across the room and out into the hall. Nothing seemed amiss…yet. Turning the corner, he peered around, down the stairs looking for some evidence that his paranoia was all just a figment of his overactive and crazed mind. Walking down the steps, he couldn't help but notice how cold he was suddenly feeling.

When he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, he was shocked at the disarray that surrounded him. It was as if a storm had swept through the kitchen, and from the looks of it, the entire house. Walking into the living room, Sam could only stare with his mouth wide open at the upturned furniture and paper strewn across the floor.

It was then that he noticed that the front door was wide open. He rushed to it and stepped out onto the front porch. Immediately his eyes were drawn to a body lying on the ground not too far away from the porch.

"Bobby!"

The man was lying unconscious and horribly beaten on the cold ground. Rushing up to him, Sam turned him onto his back and called out his name once again. Looking around himself for any trace of Dean, he noticed how utterly destroyed the yard was.

Just what had happened here?

"Dean?" he called out, ignoring the voice. There was no response. He looked back to Bobby. "Bobby, come on. Wake up, please wake up."

Bobby didn't stir.

"Sam!" Dean yelled out, appearing suddenly. "What the hell is going on here-"

Sam barely had any time to look at where Dean was before he found himself knocked to the ground.

"What did you do?" Dean said bending to the ground and shaking Bobby. "What did you do?"

Still stunned at having been so forcefully pushed away, Sam could only stutter in response.

"No-nothing."

When Bobby didn't respond to him, Dean turned menacingly to Sam.

"Don't lie to me," he said. "I saw you fighting with Bobby earlier."

Sam looked at Dean confused.

"I didn't…we didn't-"

"I know what you're capable of," Dean said. "Please don't tell me you used your…powers."

Sam could only gape like a fish out of water at Dean's words. How could Dean accuse him of that?

_How could he not? You gotta know how bad this all looks, the voice chimed in. Angry that his own mind was agreeing with his misguided brother, Sam fought back._

"I was sleeping upstairs!" he yelled. "Where were you all this time?"

"You," Sam said, suddenly remembering the moments before he fell asleep, "You were fighting with him too. You were yelling at him."

"That was different," Dean said, looking away.

"How?" Sam said, standing up. "How is that different?"

Dean only ignored his question.

"This isn't about me," Dean said. "I'm not the one with the freaky abilities."

Sam narrowed his eyes.

"What right do you have to accuse me without any evidence?" Sam countered. "You're just like dad."

An angry look came across Dean's face but Sam didn't give him a chance to speak.

"What happened to the big brother who said he was going to make this all better?" Sam said. "What happened to the Dean that said he would be there when I woke up?"

Dean seemed to think and for a moment, Sam could see guilt in his eyes. But Dean turned away before Sam could read his face any further and busied himself with getting Bobby back inside. Moving to help, he was surprised once again to be pushed back, less forcefully, but still pushed back, by Dean.

"Don't touch him," Dean said, not looking at him.

The rejection hurt and Sam felt himself sinking further and further into despair. Dean's words only solidified his resolve to find his father and end his life. Only now, he didn't care so much if Dean found out.

_Getting nasty now aren't we?_

_Shut up, _Sam thought.

_Touchy I see, the voice said with glee in its tone. You're just guilty because you think you did this._

_I did not!_ Sam replied forcefully.

_So defensive._

By now, Dean had reached the front door. Sam sighed and walked toward the door, only to be greeted by the sound of the door shutting and locking.

Great.

He hadn't noticed before, but it was pretty chilly out here and he was only wearing a thin sweater over a t-shirt. Taking a seat on the porch stairs, Sam rubbed his hands together in an effort to warm himself up. From his point of view, the damage to the yard could clearly be seen. How could Dean possibly think that he had done all this? In all his time with the demon, he had never even considered doing something like this. He was more concerned with the powers of the mind, than that of the physical world. He supposed in theory, something like this could be possible, but he was pretty sure that he himself couldn't have done all this.

_Are you sure?_

Sam ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

_You my friend are capable of so much more than you allow yourself to think. Not only that, you've done things without knowing that you've done them._

Sam frowned.

_That was only because I was possessed,_ he thought.

_What about when you sent all those visions to Dean?_

_They were only visions, _Sam countered, _Nothing like this._

_It's only natural progression in motion,_ the voice said mysteriously.

* * *

John was sitting on the side of a lonely two lane highway, a beer in one hand, and an eye on the setting sun. Some would say that it was stupid of him to be drinking a beer with the prospect of driving in front him, but they were not John Winchester. If he had it in his mind to drink and drive, then that was that. He didn't really care too much about his own safety anyway. He was a wreck of a man whose failures were obvious by the haunted look in his eyes. This was a man who had nothing to live for and only one more task to accomplish before he gave into the darkness.

Beside him, his cell phone started vibrating in the passenger seat. He ignored it as he always did and took another sip of his beer. However, looking at his phone again, he seemed to remember something in his buzzed mind. No one called him these days. It had been weeks since Dean or even Bobby had tried to call him.

Not that he cared in the least bit.

Staring at the phone again, curiosity got the best of him and he reached over and flipped it open. He had one message. With a roll of his eyes, he put the phone to his ear and listened to whatever this person had to say to him. It probably was a telemarketer anyway.

"Its me," the voice said hesitantly. "Dean."

He would never admit to anyone, but the sound of his oldest son's voice made him regret leaving him the way he did, but only for a moment.

"Dad, you were right about Sam."

He smirked. Of course he was right. A little spark of emotion started burning in his heart. Dean was admitting he was wrong. Dean missed him.

"Sam's with me and he's not the same. He... I'm sorry I ever doubted you."

He frowned. He knew Sam wasn't dead. The fact that his body had gone missing and had not been burned gave him more than enough evidence of that fact. But the fact that Sam was with Dean…

Dean was in great danger. Bobby wouldn't do what it took to keep Dean safe. He believed that Sam wasn't evil. It was up to him to make sure Dean would be OK and the only way to make sure he would be safe was to go back to Bobby's and take care of Sam himself. Bobby would no doubt fight him tooth and nail before Bobby would let him anywhere near the boy, but he had to do what he had to do. Bobby would have to realize how wrong he was the hard way.

Closing the phone, John dropped his phone back in the passenger seat and threw the beer bottle in the back. Pulling a sharp U-turn, he got back on the road, destination: South Dakota.


	4. Chapter 4 Goodbye yellow brick road

**Chapter 4**

**Goodbye yellow brick road**

_I remembered black skies,_  
_The lightning all around me_  
_I remembered each flash_  
_As time began to blur_  
_Like a startling sign_  
_The fate had finally found me_  
_And your voice was all I heard_  
_That I get what I deserve…_

_New divide, Linkin Park_

* * *

_"You're wrong Bobby," he said. "Everything is definitely not going to be okay."_

_"Calm down," Bobby said raising his hands in surrender. They were standing in the living room._

_"Oh I'm plenty calm," he said menacingly, taking a step forward, toward Bobby. "You're the one who should be quaking in his boots."_

_"I know it all has been hard on you, but you have to stay strong," Bobby said moving into the kitchen. "You can't go losing it now."_

_He laughed and followed Bobby._

_"I haven't lost anything," he said. "In fact, I've gained a world of power. I've been freed."_

_"What are you talking about boy?" Bobby said, an uneasy look coming over his face._

_"That's for me to know and you to find out," he said. "Or not."_

_"Would you stop talking in riddles?" Bobby said frustratedly. "You're not acting like yourself."_

_"Well, like you said, I've been through a lot," he replied. "People change."_

_Bobby only looked at him suspiciously before turning toward the sink and looking out the window._

_"I see that mind of yours working overtime," he observed._

_With a sigh, Bobby turned around and studied the person before him. Sadly he shook his head as if admitting defeat._

_"You're not…," Bobby said slowly not finishing his sentence._

_He laughed._

_"You're a quick study Bobby Singer."_

_Abruptly Bobby started speaking in a rush of Latin._

_The demon raised a hand and Bobby fell silent._

_"That tickles," the demon said. "You'll have to do much more than that to get rid of me."_

_The demon smiled and walked toward Bobby._

_"Don't worry, I'm going to take real good care of him," he said. "Real good care. He won't know what hit him."_

_Fear rose in Bobby's eyes._

_The demon seemed to read Bobby's mind._

_"There is no break for that boy," the demonic being said shaking his head. "He was in for ever since the day he was born. You'd think he would be used to it by now."_

_"What do I want?" the he asked, reading Bobby's mind. "Let's just say that its way above your head."_

_He smirked._

_"Ignorant fool doesn't even know I'm here. I've been playing him like a game of cards and he doesn't even know it. It's going to be one hell of a fun journey for me and his brother. The games I'll be able to play, the havoc I'll be able to wreak with their minds. These two will be fun to break."_

_He smiled and sighed happily._

_"Don't worry," he said. "I haven't left you out of the fun. You have one of the most important jobs."_

_Fear had finally won out in Bobby's eyes._

_"I need you to send a message to a certain John Winchester," he explained. "I need you to get him thinking, to get him worried, to get him to follow me even more than he already wants to."_

_He raised his other hand and within minutes, anything that wasn't tied down was up in the air in a swirling mass, circling the pair. All was silent for a few minutes as the two stood there observing the mass of objects moving rapidly around them. The demon let some of the object move perilously close to Bobby as if to taunt him in his frozen state._

_"It's so beautiful isn't it?" he laughed. Without further ado, he then let it all fall to the ground with a gigantic crash that practically shook the house. He looked at Bobby. "Walk."_

_Against his own will, Bobby moved forward into the living room and toward the front door. The destruction followed him as the living room was similarly destroyed as the kitchen._

_"Go right on out old man," he said._

_By now the Bobby was standing at the top of the porch waiting for his next command. Walking past Bobby, the demon walked several yards ahead before coming to a stop and turning around in a cycle, taking in where everything was located in the yard. Then, he abruptly raised his arms, as if to conduct a massive symphony. Absolute chaos followed his hands from then on. Objects started flying everywhere, colliding with each other and exploding or crumbling upon contact. It was as if a tornado had landed in Bobby's salvage yard._

_After a many minutes of what could only be described as sheer destruction, he dropped his hands and, with satisfaction in his eyes, turned back to Bobby._

_"Now that was fun," he said walking back up the porch steps until he was directly behind Bobby. "But this will be even more fun."_

_With a cruel smile on his face, he threw out a hand and pushed Bobby, causing him to fall down the porch steps and land on the ground in a heap. Skipping down the steps, he looked down at Bobby with repulsion on his face._

_"I really can't stand your kind," he said distastefully. It was then that the true torture began. By the time he was through with Bobby, Bobby was a pitiful unconscious mess lying on the ground, barely breathing. He reached down one last time and touched Bobby's forehead. Then, leaving Bobby lying there, he went back into the house and up the stairs._

With a jolt, his eyes flew open. His heart was beating a mile a minute. Was it possible? Was Dean right about him? Wait a moment…

Where was he?

He was sitting in the passenger seat of the Impala. Outside, everything was dark. They were driving down an empty two lane road. All was dead quiet. He looked to Dean, who was driving. He had his eyes firmly on the road. It seemed that he was in deep concentration.

What was going on?

He looked in the back seat.

Where was Bobby? Was he OK?

Beside him, Dean didn't even acknowledge him movements.

Sam bit his lip as he turned back to look at the road ahead. A massive headache was building behind his eyes. Closing his eyes, he thought back to what he had seen in his dream, no, vision. Everything had been from his point of view. He had been the one speaking to Bobby, messing up Bobby's place, and worst of all, hurting Bobby. More chilling to him though was the way in which he had controlled Bobby like a rag doll. It reminded him all too well of his time with the yellow eyed demon and the lengths he would go to get what he wanted.

It all made sense now. How would he have been able to sleep through the entire racket that had ensued in destroying Bobby's place? The noise had been enough to wake a hibernating bear. When he thought of Dean and where he had been during the entire episode, he reckoned that Dean must have been hiding for his own safety.

_Ignorant fool doesn't even know I'm here. I've been playing him like game of cards and he doesn't even know it._

The words of that had come out of mouth ignited a flame of anger within him. How stupid was he to trust that a voice in his head was simply a harmless side effect of a misguided trip into a demon's head. When you dealt with demons the side effects were never harmless.

This was worse than anything he could have dreamed of, even after everything that had happened with the yellow eyed demon. Now, here he was, doing horrible things that he couldn't remember doing, without the yellow eyed demon there to spur him on. Somehow, this was all his own doing even though he wanted nothing to do with anything he had apparently done.

_I've gained a world of power; I've been freed, he had spoken._

_Freed._

That was it. The voice was his darker side, the part of him that was more willing to give into the power that he held thanks to the yellow eyed demon. And now, he knew that it had the power to take him over and do unimaginable things. It was him, only uninhibited.

_Just great._

"Dean?" he said quietly.

Dean glanced at him wearily in the darkness.

"You're awake," he stated.

Sam sighed, his discovery weighing heavily on his mind.

"What happened?" he asked. He had to know that he hadn't done anything else in the time between when he had been sitting on Bobby's porch and now.

Dean seemed to pause before answering him.

"You nodded off," Dean said. "I figured it was best if we left Bobby's place for a while."

"How is he?" Sam asked, glad to find something else to occupy his mind. "He's okay right?"

"When we left he still was unconscious," Dean answered.

"Where is he?" Sam asked "You took him to a hospital right?"

Dean shook his head.

"You mean to say, that he's all alone in that house unconscious and injured?" Sam said irrediculously. He didn't need to ask why Dean hadn't simply called 911. There was too much incriminating stuff just lying around Bobby's place for random visitors to be waltzing in and accidentally seeing. "Why did you just leave him there?"

"Well, in case you didn't know, Sam," Dean said. "It was you who put him in that state, not me. So don't go being all self-righteous about what I did."

"But you left him there," Sam said. "What if he dies?"

"I suppose you would know how hurt he was seeing that you did it," Dean commented.

"Dean," Sam begged, going silent.

"I don't hear you saying you didn't do it," Dean said interrupting him.

Sam looked out the window away from Dean.

"I saw it all in a vision," Sam said, his voice etched with sorrow. "I did it Dean."

He faced Dean.

"I didn't mean it, I don't even know how I did it," Sam answered, "But I did it."

"It's obvious," Dean said. "You used your freaky mojo, case closed."

"It's not case closed," Sam said anger seeping into his voice. "I'm dangerous Dean. I'm a danger to you, to the world-"

"Can you just get over yourself and think of something useful?" Dean said sounding fed up.

Sam frowned. Dean shortness with him and the way he was being so accusatory and taking everything so nonchalantly, was making him feel strange, like something was not quite right here, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"You never answered why you just left Bobby there," Sam said changing rerouting the subject away from himself.

Dean shook his head and sighed.

"You called dad didn't you," Sam said quietly.

Dean looked guilty. There was silence in the Impala. Then,

"I understand," Sam said looking out at the darkness.

"You're not...mad at me?"

Sam shrugged, still facing the window.

"Someone has to help Bobby," he answered. "At least Dad will do that if nothing else."

Dean was silent. Sam could tell he expected much more of a fight about it, But honestly Sam didn't care. Once their dad saw Bobby's place in ruins he wouldn't stop until he found them. At least he wouldn't have to search his father out for death.

"I don't know what to say Sam," Dean said breaking the tense silence.

"Then don't say anything at all" Sam said leaning against the window and closing his eyes.

All was quiet for a few miles and Sam was finally starting to drift off when Dean spoke again.

"It's just that, I was doing my own thing, and the next thing I know I'm opening my eyes to find everything around me all messed up and you standing over a half dead Bobby."

Dean paused.

"I'm sorry Sammy, for everything."

Sam heard it all, but didn't move a muscle.

"We'll figure this out," Dean said. "I promise."

There was nothing for Sam to figure out. As much as he wanted to believe Dean, to accept his apology, he couldn't bring himself to give Dean a hope that was futile and nonexistent. Not only that, but Dean's angry one moment and sorry the next attitude was keeping at arms reach. While words may not break bones, they sure could break trust and Dean had said more than enough to break what fragile trust Sam had left after everything he had been through in the past few weeks. And every time, that trust would start to build again, something new would happen that would tear it apart and set him back even further than before.

It was a vicious cycle that kept repeating. He only hoped it wouldn't have the chance to repeat itself again before he could end it all once and for all.

* * *

The sun was barely starting to rise when he finally arrived at Bobby's place. The sheer destruction that he had found when he had first stepped out of his truck was enough to shock him into silence. If Sam had done this, then he certainly couldn't let the boy live anymore. This was serious. No matter what Bobby said, Sam had to go.

Reaching back into his truck, he pulled out a shot gun. He knew that it wouldn't be much use against Sam with all the abilities he had, but it was better than nothing. He walked quietly toward the porch, more than aware of the silence surrounding him. It was all very eerie. Adding to the feeling, was the sound of the porch steps as they creaked under his weight.  
Putting a hand to the door, he was surprised to find that it was unlocked let alone closed at all. He continued on, noting how the inside of the house seemed to match the outside far as destruction went. Sam really had gone all out to send him a message. But what did he mean by it all? Sure this was all very disturbing, but at the same time, not completely surprising to him. He walked into the kitchen. Broken plates and glasses were scattered across the floor.

Moving on through the kitchen, he approached the stairs and considered searching upstairs. But before he could fully commit to the thought, he noticed that down the hall past the stairs, Bobby's bedroom door was wide open. Bobby never left that door open. He had never even been in there. Bobby was more than willing to share everything he had with them, but that room was his own. Making up his mind, John abandoned the stairs and walked toward the room.

It was much too quiet. Perhaps Bobby wasn't here anymore? It certainly seemed as if no one were here. He never would have made it this far into the house uncontested let alone the yard if Bobby were in fact here. Dislike the man as much as he might at that moment, he really hoped that the man had made it out of here before all the damage had occurred to his property.

It wasn't so. Walking into the room, he took a sharp breath as he caught sight of Bobby lying as if he were thrown on to the bed; beaten and bruised and most worrying of all, unconscious. At least he hoped so. Rushing to the man's side, he felt for a pulse. Seconds passed before he found one. Letting out a breath he didn't even remember holding, he stared at Bobby helplessly. This was out of his realm of experience. How could he combat the threat that had so easily taken out Bobby? Bobby was a good hunter, better than most. He knew practically everything there was to know about the supernatural and if he didn't know, he at least knew where to find information about whatever it was they looking for.

But this was no unknown entity that had caught Bobby unaware. This was Sam. He was sure of it. Figuring that Bobby wasn't about to go anywhere anytime so under his own power and that a few more minutes alone wouldn't do Bobby any more harm than had already come to him, he left the room and searched the remaining rooms on the ground floor. After a brief but no less thorough search of the basement, he went up the stairs. So far nothing had caught his eye and no one else had made themselves known to him. He quickly went through the rooms on the second floor, leaving the room where he knew his boys always slept when they stayed with Bobby for last.

The door was half way open. It reminded him of Bobby's open bedroom door and what he had found beyond that door. He prayed that he wouldn't find Dean in a similar condition. The thought of find Sam in a similar condition didn't even cross his mind. He did think however, about finding Sam standing there, waiting for him to arrive; waiting for the chance to take his life in as brutal a fashion as Sam could manage. He gripped his shotgun firmly as he pushed the door the rest of the way open.

He had failed to think of finding an empty room however.

Disappointment filled his heart at finding nothing. Dejectedly, he walked further into the room and looked around. He looked at Dean's side of the room and noticed how the bed was as messy as it always was after a night of having Dean sleep in it. Dean's duffel was right next to the bed. A random shirt was draping over it.

He went toward the bed and moved the pillow aside. Underneath was Dean's hunting knife. He never went anywhere without it unless he was still nearby. It was unsettling to say the least. He went to Sam's side of the room.

The first thing he noticed was how Sam's bed was unmade. The kid was a neat freak. He was organized to a fault. It just proved to him how much Sam had changed and how far gone he truly was. Sam's duffel was lying beside the bed just like Dean's. Where ever they were, they hadn't taken their things with them

_Where were they? Why go to all this effort? Why hurt Bobby?_

All he could think of was that Sam was doing all of this out of a need for revenge. That was why he had taken Dean. Sam knew he would do everything in his power to save Dean.

Well if he wanted a chase, then a chase was what Sam was going to get.

He went back downstairs to Bobby. The man was still breathing, but only just. Bobby needed to be taken to a hospital and that's where he intended to take him. Just as he was about to start moving Bobby, Bobby suddenly grabbed his arm.

"He got him, John," Bobby said, his voice robotic and harsh. "A demon's got him!"

Taking in a sharp breath, John frowned.

"Who?" he asked frantically. "Who's got who? What do you mean?"

"They need help!" Bobby said. "They don't know!"

"Don't know what?" he asked, shaking Bobby.

As soon as Bobby had started, he stopped, going limp once more in John's grasp.

Just great.

He had to get out of here. But he had to get Bobby taken care of before he could even think of figuring out what the hell was going on. Bobby's words were confusing at best, but he committed them to memory just the same. As he made his way out of the house and toward his truck he noticed what his mind already subconsciously knew. The Impala was nowhere in sight. Whatever was going on, Dean and Sam had left; who knew under what circumstances.

Once he got Bobby into the passenger seat, he rushed around to the driver's side and got in. Putting the key into the ignition, he didn't waste any time in speeding away from the destruction that was Bobby's place. He only hoped that he would be able to get Bobby the help Bobby needed quickly so that he could go out and save Dean from his brother. With any luck he would be able to catch them before they got too far away.


	5. Chapter 5 Stab my back

**Chapter 5**

**Stab my back**

_Caught in the middle of a cross-fire_  
_Lost my balance on a high-wire_  
_Trying to figure out what to do…_

_Sink or swim, Tyrone Wells_

* * *

Sam listlessly shifted in his seat. His head was throbbing and they had been driving through the night. He glanced worriedly at Dean. His brother didn't seem the least bit tired, yet Dean hadn't slept since the night before they left Bobby's place; at least he thought so. For all he knew Dean might have stopped at the side of the road for few hours while he was asleep. He hoped so. He didn't want a tired Dean to crash the Impala.

"Why are you staring at me?" Dean suddenly asked, sounding a little paranoid.

Sam looked away slightly ashamed at being caught.

"Just thinking," he muttered.

He heard Dean sigh.

"I need a drink," Dean said, sounding more than tired.

Maybe he hadn't slept after all.

"Maybe we should stop at the next motel we see and rest for a while," Sam suggested. His sleeping habits were virtually nonexistent and he knew Dean wasn't having the easiest of times in regards to sleep either.

"I'm fine," Dean said sternly.

Sam let the matter drop immediately. He rarely ever heard that tone of voice from Dean, but when he did hear it, it a sure sign to let his brother be.

After an hour of silence, Dean pulled off the two lane road and came to a stop at a small roadside diner. Pulling the key from the ignition, Dean got out of the Impala without a word to Sam. As he watched him disappear into the small restaurant, Sam couldn't help but notice how preoccupied Dean seemed. Their situation was wearing on him, he could tell. Sam felt bad. Dean had done so much for him and this was how he repaid him?

He sat in silence and made no move to get out of the car. Rubbing his head tiredly, Sam willed his headache to go away. He wasn't hungry, if he had ever been today. His appetite was rather nonexistent these days. He just couldn't make himself want to eat. Food didn't seem as appealing as it did before, never satisfied him as it once did. He tried to tell himself that it was because of the guilt and worry he was feeling that was driving his appetite away, but he knew better. It was the blood. It both energized and repulsed him. He shook his head of the thought. Instead he tried to remember what he had eaten in the past few days. That thought brought a heavy sigh from him. A bird would have eaten more than he had. He had to wonder how he was still alive let alone up and walking about.

Living on fruit punch was not going to do him favors.

That juice was the only thing that he had readily accepted from Dean other than what meager solids he had grudgingly eaten. Strange as it was, the juice was enough. He had never really liked sugary drinks before, but for some reason, he was more than eager to drink that sugary drink. The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he could use some now. With that thought in mind, he finally got out of the Impala and made his way into the dinner.

Dean was sitting in the far corner of the room nursing a coffee and looking sullen. Sam noticed that there was another drink in front of him. It was a red drink; fruit punch. Sam smiled, just a little. Dean still cared.

Taking a seat, Sam took the drink in his hands and took a sip. As the drink slid down his throat, he had to admit, he felt better already. His head a little clearer, Sam looked over at Dean and was surprised to find him staring back at him intently. Sam frowned.

"Dean?" he asked.

Dean narrowed his eyes then quickly looked away, taking a sip of his coffee.

Sam sighed. In the back of his mind, he heard the echo of distant laughter, reminding him that he was not alone in his head.

* * *

John was at a loss. Where would he go? He had no clue where Dean and Sam were, if they were even together at all. All he to go on that was what Bobby had told him, which was confusing at best. How could he move forward? How could he help Dean? Just then his phone started vibrating. Pulling it out of his pocket, he looked at who was calling and was more than relieved, yet still worried, to find that it was Dean.

"Dean?" he answered.

Only the sound of shaky breathing could be heard for the next few minutes.

"Dean?" he asked more gently this time.

"Dad," Dean said.

"Are you OK?" he asked anxiously.

"No," Dean answered quietly.

"Talk to me son," he pleaded.

"Dad, I…" Dean paused.

He waited for Dean to continue, cursing each second of silence.

"They're all dead," Dean said brokenly. "Sam…I…they're just lying there…dead."

"Sam?" he asked, his heart sinking at how low Dean sounded.

"I…I think so," Dean said.

"Where are you?" he asked. The sooner he knew, the sooner he would have a place to go.

"I'm not sure," Dean answered. "I…don't remember."

John sighed.

"Think hard for me son," he pleaded.

Dean was quiet for the next minute and he almost thought that he had lost him.

"Ben's…Bert's? It's a diner," Dean said. "Route 8? Maybe."

Dean seemed to be talking to himself.

"I think we're in Illinois," Dean continued.

"Sam's with you?" he asked, his worry reaching new heights at the news.

"Yeah," Dean said.

They were both quiet.

"Sam," Dean finally spoke. "He's doing something to me."

John sighed.

"My memory…it's not all there," Dean whispered.

Dean sounded so lost.

"It will be okay Dean," he reassured. "I'm on my way."

"No."

Dean's words surprised him.

"What?" he asked.

"You can't hurt Sam," Dean said, sounding stronger. "I won't let you."

John frowned. How could Dean accuse his brother of harming him, then plead for the same persons safety? He never would understand whatever it was that kept Dean from ever completely doubting his brother.

"We have to help him," Dean said from the other end of the phone.

This was unacceptable for John.

"Help him? Help him?" John thundered. "After what he has done to us; to you? How can you say that?"

"How can you not?" Dean asked, his voice quiet, yet strong.

John was doing his best not to explode at Dean. It was taking all of his self-control to keep his temper under some semblance of control and Dean was definitely not helping.

"Fine," he conceded.

"You won't hurt him?" Dean asked hope seeping into his voice.

John pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew he was making a promise that he knew he would not keep.

"Whatever you say," he answered.

He heard Dean sigh on the other end of the phone.

"Come quickly," Dean said. "We won't be here much longer."

"I will find you," He said resolutely.

"I know," Dean answered, and then the line went dead, but not before he heard someone call out Dean's name.

John slowly lowered his hand from his ear, his mind quickly working through everything he would need to do to find Dean. Seemingly coming up with a plan, he punched in some numbers into his cell phone and put it back to his ear. It was time to call in some favors.

* * *

When Sam next opened his eyes, he found that he was resting his head on his arms which were folded on the table in front of him. He had fallen asleep. Confused, Sam looked to Dean only to find that he wasn't sitting there anymore. He looked around the rest of the dinner only to find a waking horror.

All around the room was blood, nothing but blood and...body parts, littered everywhere. Red stained the wall in various spatter patterns and thicknesses. The smell of iron was rich in the air, catching in his throat and making his eyes water.

Where was Dean?

He called out for his brother and was answered by the sound of a creaking door. Sam snapped his head in the direction of the sound. With a sigh of relief that was shortly lived, he watched as Dean stumbled of from behind the door, looking horrified and scared.

That was an earth shattering event. Dean never looked scared. Ever. He was the epitome of fearless, at least to Sam. As soon as his brother laid eyes on him, Dean froze. The fear in his eyes only grew. It was then that Sam realized that Dean was afraid...of him.

"You did something to me," Dean said walking shakily toward him. There was a wild look in his eyes now, "You were in my head. Messing with me, making me forget things, it was you," Dean accused.

Sam frowned at his brother confused.

"I don't know what you're talking about Dean," he said, "You're not making any sense."

Dean started shaking his head and brandishing his arm to emphasis his point.

"You've done it before," Dean accused. "That day, before the graveyard, you were in my head, telling me things, showing me things, you were messing in there."

Sam took a deep breath. He wouldn't go there. His mind wouldn't let him. What happened before was buried deep within him never to be seen again, at least not willingly.

"You're a monster Sam," Dean said forcefully, "A monster."

Tears welled up in his eyes as soon as the words left his brothers mouth; Hearing his worst fear spoken aloud and by none other than his brother, it cut right through his heart. Dean walked by him giving him a wide berth and staring at him like he was the main attraction at a freak show. Sam stood there for a moment, letting his eyes take in the sheer amount of bodily destruction that had taken place while he had in the middle of it all yet had no memory of. Closing his eyes and shaking his head, he tuned around and rushed after his brother.

Outside, the skies were sunny and blue; a stark contrast to his mood and it only got worse. The moment he stepped out of the door, he found himself being slammed into the wall next to door, his head snapping back painfully.

"Tell me why I shouldn't just leave you here?" Dean said aggressively.

Sam stood there pressed against the wall painfully, his mouth gaping like fish, trying to find the words to defend himself, but he couldn't come up with anything other than muttered apologies for so many different things that he wasn't sure what he apologizing for after a while.

"I…don't know," Sam said feebly, looking away from Dean. "Maybe…you should."

With a disgusted look, Dean let go of Sam and turned away, walking the short distance to the Impala with purposeful strides.

Sagging against the wall, Sam watched him go with a strange sense of detachment. Since he knew his dad would happen along this scene one way or another, he was getting what he wanted by Dean leaving him here. But at the same time, he could help a growing feeling of unease; that there was something he was missing and that staying here and choosing to throw in all his cards now would be something he would regret.

As a sigh escaped his lips, Dean paused in front of the Impala then slowly turn around to face him once more.

Even across the short distance between them, Sam could see that something had changed in Dean's eyes. They were…softer…kinder, more like the Dean he remembered before, not the cold hard person he had become in the last few weeks. He frowned.

"Dean?"

Dean stared at him for a moment before taking a step toward him then pausing again. It seemed that a sudden battle of the wills was going within Dean. He looked conflicted.

"Why do you want to stay here Sam?" he asked finally.

Sam pushed himself off the wall and stood up, looking at Dean uncertainly.

"You know dad will come here, you…" he trailed off into silence before coming back with an accusation. "You want dad to…you still want to die don't you?"

Sam rubbed his face and looked away.

When he looked back at Dean, Dean was staring at the sky, his eyes closed, a permanent sadness etched into face. Not only that, but Sam could see that Dean was fighting not to give into tears. It was enough to make him want to break down right there.

"I wish I…" Dean opened his eyes and looked to Sam. "Help me Sam."

In that moment, Sam wanted nothing more than to help him and forget everything that had happened between them in the past few days. But that thought was driven away instantly as Dean suddenly rushed him and forced him into the wall again, only this time, he was sure that there would be nasty bruise on his back in the morning.

"You have to help me Sam," Dean said, his voice sincerely begging Sam for something he didn't know he could offer.

"How?" Sam asked, even though Dean was using all of his strength to seemingly flatten him against the wall.

The look in Dean's eyes was dead serious and extremely desperate. It was as if Dean was begging him to look beyond the pain he was inflicting and into his soul. It was as if he were silently begging for forgiveness while asking for something Sam didn't know he could offer. After all, how could you help someone when you didn't know what was wrong?

He had never seen those emotions in his brother's eyes, let alone in combination. It made him listen.

Dean closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

"How, Dean?" Sam said, his voice no more than a whisper. Dean was making it hard for him to breath.

When Dean opened his eyes again, Sam saw that spark of the old Dean start to fade.

"Help me," Dean gritted out.

"I can't breathe," Sam replied.

"I'm going to kill you Sam," Dean said, suddenly smiling back at him, his face so close to his own, that he could feel Dean's hot breath against his cheek.

Before he could even blink, he found himself being roughly dragged toward the Impala and one to gently being thrown in the passenger seat. As Dean slammed the door shut and walked around to the driver's side of the car, his eyes never left him as if they were daring him to try something.

Sam could only sit there, his head pounding, his back aching, and chest heaving, as he struggled in vain to calm down. But the calmness he was vainly seeking, was buried by the overriding desire to understand how things had changed so drastically.

What had just happened?

* * *

_She was in a dimly lit room. Said room reeked of a mix of the stale rusty smell of dried up blood and fear. It was intoxicating. In her hand she held a vicious looking dagger that was begging for use. That use was hanging in front of her dangling at the wrists from the ceiling, held up by that metal chain, gagged, and unconscious._

_Behind her, she hear the telltale sounds of struggling._

_"Stop!" a voice shouted out. "You don't have to do this!"_

_She shook her head and laughed to herself. This boy was as idealistic and foolish as they came; ready to sacrifice himself at the drop of a hat. She turned around and smirked._  
_In front of her was a young bean pole of a young man with shaggy brown hair. He was done up in a similar manner as the other man. He was putting up quite a struggle even though he looked like he was causing himself more pain in the process. Fresh blood seeped down his arms. And sweat marred his forehead. He looked utterly pathetic._  
_"You are hardly in a position to stop me," she told him haughtily._

_The boy looked at her angrily. Smiling she drank in that anger and the powerlessness he so obviously felt. Here, in this room, she was God. She decided whether they lived or not. Such power was…invigorating. It was the most amazing feeling in the world._

_She winked at him and then turned back to the old man. Orders were orders even when they seemed more like a vacation at disneyland than work._

_"You can't stop me," she said. "I like this way too much to stop."_

_She raised her hand and stared at the wicked looking knife she was carrying. It held a power she couldn't even begin to understand, but craved none the less. There were other, easier ways to kill people; ways that wouldn't require her to do anything at all but summon a demon. It was one of her powers. But this was more hands on and she liked being hands on_  
_Behind her, the struggling young man had gone silent. It seemed he had finally bowed down to her power and authority over him._

_She raised the knife to the other man's face and let it trace his cheek drawing blood as she trailed down toward his neck. It would so easy to end it right there with one swift slash and let him bleed out slowly, but that was too simple. Her master had taught her other, more gruesome methods of accomplishing what she was here to accomplish. They were much more drawn out, and much more rewarding._

_But before she could continue on with her torturous plans for the old man, she found herself on the floor, the shaggy hair boy on top her, the knife in his hand, the cold blade pressed hard against her throat. She smiled. He had quieted not because he had recognized the power she held, but because he had gotten free. She had underestimated him. Just because he had gone soft, didn't mean he had lost any of the knowledge he had gained while under the yellow eyed demons care._

_"Go on," She taunted. "Finish it."_

_She knew wouldn't do it. She knew it from the look in his eyes. He was always fighting his true nature. Why he didn't give in, she would never know. She had fought only for a short time, but giving in was like finally meeting her true self. She didn't ever want to be the girl she had been before that ever again. She was so weak and powerless, not to mention spineless. Why would anyone want to be that way?_

_"It doesn't have to be this way," Sam said. "You don't have to do any of this."_

_She smiled._

_"But I like doing this," as soon as the words left her mouth she was in action, flipping Sam onto his back and taking the knife from his grip. However weak he had become, he was still strong, but she was just as strong and willing to kill to get her way._

_"Your losing your touch," she taunted, "Not the indestructible all-knowing fiend you once were."_

_She smiled, an evil glint lighting up her eyes._

_"You've gone soft."_

_Sam laid there, just breathing, not doing anything._

_"Giving up?" she taunted. "Decided your brother's not worth it?"_

_The words seemed to light a fire in the young man beneath her. Suddenly she was the one on her back, the knife just inches away from her heart, and a very pissed off heavy weight on top her._

_Sam glared at her._

_"I could kill you now," he gritted back._

_She smiled._

_"But you won't."_

_With an abrupt kick to his stomach, the young man let go of the knife, freeing her to grab it and to plunge it into his side. For moment she stood there taking in the young man's pain before abruptly pulling the knife out. She backed away and stood up triumphantly as Sam fell onto his knees, screaming out in pain._

_It was delicious._

_Turning to the other man, she saw that he had woken up and was weakly struggling against his bonds._

_"You leave him alone," the main croaked, his voice cracking._

_"As you wish," she trust the knife right in the center of his chest. Sam cried out behind her, but she paid him no heed._

_A sudden clapping sound averted her gaze from the dying man in front of her. Looking to where the sound was coming from, she saw the man who had saved her from her previously pointless existence._

_"Dean," Sam coughed out from the floor._

_He holding his side, and his face was scrunched in pain, yet he still spoke._

_Dean didn't pay Sam any attention. His eyes were on her, only on her. Oh how she loved those eyes. When he beckoned her, she rushed to his side eagerly._

_"I did everything you told me to," she said._

_Dean looked at Sam pointedly._

_She shrugged._

_"He attacked me," she explained._

_He smirked._

_"Let let him think about his consequences for a while," Dean said._

_Concern struck her for a moment, a rare occurrence these days._

_"Won't he bleed out?" she asked._

_He looked at Sam then back at her, shaking his head._

_"He'll be fine," he said._

_Still uncertain, she looked back at him. He didn't look so good._

"Miss Wilson!" a voice called out suddenly.

Abruptly, she woke up with a gasp, sitting up straight in her seat.

"I will not have students falling asleep in my class."

Everyone in the class was staring at her.

"I'm Sorry Mrs. Larson," she said looking down.

All around her, everyone else slowly returned their attention to the teacher, but she did not. Her dream was too fresh on her mind, the blood she had seen, to vivid to ignore, the hurt, too raw.

_Why was she seeing these things? _


	6. Chapter 6 Castaway

**Chapter 6**

**Castaway**

_I walk this empty street,_  
_On the boulevard of broken dreams_  
_Where the city sleeps_  
_And I'm the only one and I walk alone…_

_Boulevard of broken dreams, Green Day._

* * *

_All around him busy chatter abounded. The atmosphere was light and laid back. It was everything you would picture a small country diner to be. Glancing across the table at the sleeping form that was Sam, he smirked; dumb fool. For one so paranoid of everything remotely related to the supernatural, Sam was a walking blind man. Very big things were going down right under his nose. He supposed it was all good fun, but seriously, the stupidity of the younger man was getting boring. Now Sam was sulking thinking he had been the one to hurt Bobby and destroy his place. It was rather arrogant of him to do that though; taking credit for something that was so obviously above his abilities. Yet the boy had done it. _

_At first it had been fun seeing Sam squirm under the guilt he felt, but the current moody sulking was not entertaining. Among other reasons, that was why he had put the boy out of misery just minutes before. Who knew what Azazel saw in this pathetic child. Looking away from the waste of space across the table, he glanced at all the people in the dinner and where they were within the room. He even noted where the people behind the counter were. If he was going to do this right, then he would have to make sure that he got everyone._

_Standing up from the table with a cruel smile firmly in place, he raised his hands. Suddenly, every sharp object in the room was floating in the air. The diner went silent for a moment, but only a moment, before complete and utter pandemonium broke out. As soon as the first person was stabbed savagely by a large meat cleaver, everyone stood up at once and fought toward the door. He had locked it of course and it was mighty fun to watch the reactions on the faces of the people as they slowly realized this._

_Waving his hands around again, merely for show, he watched in further glee as people's limbs were ripped a part and sent flying across the room in a virtual shower of human DNA. The people who were spared simply froze on the spot, their hearts giving out from sheer terror. In the ensuing death throes of everyone in the diner, he relished the pain and suffering. There was nothing quite like it and it had been a long time since he was able to indulge in this type of merry making. Since it looked like he would be here for a good long time if everything worked out the way it was supposed to, this would be the first of many such play dates for him. However, this particular party was not all play. Uttering a few choice words, he watched in satisfaction as blood from all the victims in the room began to leave their owners and move towards the center of the room. Once at the center, the blood began to give off a white hot glow that expanded and filled the room before abruptly winking out as if it had never been._

_He smiled._

_The offering had been accepted._

Sam 's eyes snapped open at once.

The world around him was a bright orange haze. Under the cover of the setting orange sun, they drove down a small street, passing one cookie cutter house after another with no distinguishing features to tell them apart. Sam didn't dare ask Dean what they were doing driving down the pristine street that was practically the antithesis of everything Winchester. His body still ached from Dean's abuse and probably would for the next few days. The Impala felt more like a prison than the home it had always been to him. Dean felt like a stranger. His own mind had a mind its own. It was more than he could handle but he did. He felt like he would self destruct any minute from all the pressure.

What relief should have come from knowing he had not as secured those people at that dinner had not had the chance to develop as he had learned that it had been Dean who had committed the crime. Not only that, but to know the thoughts that were going through his head...and what he thought of his little brother.

He looked at Dean hurt and fear fighting for dominance within his gaze. This was the person who he had looked up to all of his life, the person who was his own personal hero. Even when they fought, Dean still was larger than life and now...

Sam looked away, his arms folded across his chest. He absent mindedly rubbed his upper arms where Dean had so roughly manhandled him into the car. There surely would be hand shaped bruises there within hours if they already weren't there now. In all their years, Dean had never laid a hand on him in anger like he had at that dinner. Sure there were fist fights and brotherly rough housing, but that was different. There was still love between them even when they had fought those times. This...there was nothing but cold hard anger in Dean's eyes. When Dean had said he would kill him, he believed him.

Suddenly chilly even with the heater blowing warm air at him, Sam closed his eyes and tried to make himself believe that this was nightmare he would wake up from.

The car stopped.

Sam opened his eyes reluctantly. They were parked on the side of the street in front of a large generic two story house. The grass was pristine, every flower in order. A cheery small wooden welcome sign was hung on the door. A nice car was parked in the driveway and another had barely just pulled in, judging from the woman who was getting out of it. Beside him, Dean started unbuckling his seat belt. Sam looked at him, His confusion at what they were doing seeping into his eyes against his will. The look he received in answer only made him shiver. It was a look that spoke of unspeakable punishment if he were to leave the car.

Sam gulped.

Forget being a little scared, he was way beyond that now.

* * *

The small out of the way diner wasn't hard to find at all. The parking lot of police cars that spilled out along the highway was a dead giveaway. Pulling to a stop alongside the road, he got out of his truck and started walking.

Judging from the crowd of officers, it seemed that every cop in the state and then some had showed up. He walked up to the closest officer and did his best at looking intimidating and authoritative which didn't take any effort at all.

"Officer," he greeted. "What's going on here?"

The officer looked him up and down.

"Who are you?" he asked distastefully. "This case is classified."

John raised an eyebrow and pulled out a badge from underneath his coat.

"Off-duty FBI," he replied.

The officer seemed to gulp before nodding in acceptance.

"To tell you the truth," the officer said, "We're not sure about what really happened."

"Well what does it look like?" John asked.

The officer shook his head.

"It seems they all went crazy and knifed each other," the officer replied.

"They?" he asked.

"The civilians," the officer clarified. "They just went after each other with the nearest sharpest thing and…" the officer trailed off.

"Can I see the scene?" John asked.

The officer nodded.

Inside, everything was as the officer had described minus the gore, but he supposed that this type of mutilation was hard to put into words. Sighing, he went around the room bypassing the other officers examining the scene and looked at each body, hoping and praying that Dean wasn't one of them. Luck was on his side in that respect. But he was still no closer to finding Dean. With all the police swarming the place, if Dean wasn't dead, then he was far from this place already.

He turned around and took in the diner as a whole. Even with all the police crowding the place, he could still see what a mess it was. Why would all these people up and stab each other? The answer wasn't far from his mind. Sam had been here. It was no coincidence.

He glanced at the floor. Partially hidden underneath a table was a small charm. Drawn to it for some reason, he quickly bent down and picked it up. The small charm was attached to a leather cord. It was Dean's. He would recognize it anywhere. Dean never took it off, even when he was sleeping. He wasn't too sure about what it was supposed to represent if anything at all, but he knew that Sam had given it to Dean years ago and that Dean had never taken it off since.

Putting the charm in his pocket before anyone else could see, he looked out the windows of the diner. Outside, groups of officers talked, trying to make sense of what had happened. There were a few civilians gathered around, local folks wondering the same thing that the police were. Beyond them though, standing next to a large tree was a blond haired young woman that looked out of place. The more he looked at her, the more he came to realize that she was staring right back at him.

More than a little curious, he quickly left the diner. But once outside, she was gone from his sight as if she had never been there in the first pace.

That was more than a little strange.

* * *

She sat on her bed, hugging her knees close to her chest, slowly rocking back and forth. He was coming. She just knew. Today was the day.

After she had woken up from her dream or vision or whatever it was, she had told the teacher she wasn't feeling well and had left school early. Her parents wouldn't mind. They would never know. They didn't come home until after 5 anyway. Besides, what did they have to worry about? She was a good a kid. She had good grades, good friends. She never snuck out, wasn't the drinking type, didn't do drugs. The only problem she ever faced was the sudden shyness she felt whenever a particularly cute guy at school would walk by or attempt to talk to her. But that was pretty normal among her group of friends, nothing that set her apart from them. The only thing that did, were the dreams.

They had started about a month ago. That first night she had seen a boy about her age get run over by a swerving car. She didn't know the boy, nor did the location look familiar, not that she could tell much in the darkness that surrounded the boy. The dreams that followed all deteriorated from there. She had dreamt of a man getting decapitated by a falling window, another person killing himself after answering a phone call and a girl sobbing with a dead body in front of her. Not to mention the guy who had shot electricity out of his hands.

She had not told her parents of her dreams. She didn't think they would believe her and at best they would probably start taking her to a psychologist. She didn't want that.

Today's dream had been the worst one yet. She had never dreamt of herself, let alone herself torturing another person. She didn't think she had it in her to hurt another person, but then again, her mother always told her that everyone had a dark side; it was only a matter of how they chose to control it. And judging from her dream, she had failed miserably to control it, letting it take her over so completely.

Secretly, though she would never, ever, under threat of death, admit it, but secretly, she daydreamed what it would be like to be give in to that dark side. She knew how wrong it was, but the movies and books she read made it sound so much better than her mundane life in the suburbs. Somehow, while it still scared her, she knew she was capable of doing everything in her dreams and so much more. Worse than that, or even better, depending on your point of view, she could see herself enjoying every bit of it all. It was scary and enticing at the same time.

Her life was drawn out. She was going to graduate high school somewhere near the top of her class, go to college, find a man, get married, have 2.5 kids, a white picket fence and a cute little puppy, just like her mom, save for the 2.5 kids. Her mom had not been able to have anymore children after she had been born. She had been something of a miracle from what her parents had told her.

Still, the tiny taste of power she had experienced in her dream intrigued her as did the handsome blond man his piercing stare that had gone right through her mind her feeling both beautiful and wanted. Oh to be wanted by that man. Never in her life had she thought that she would ever be sought after by a man like that. Sure she daydreamed about it, but she never gave it much hope of happening in real life. She was rather blah in comparison to the other girls at her school. She didn't really care for the latest fashions or the makeup. She simply was. And so far that had gotten her though life. But the dream gave her hope, a twisted hope at that, that life could be different, that life could be exciting and mysterious.

Outside, she heard a car pull up. It was her father, right on time. A few silent moments passed before she heard the front door open downstairs. She heard her father walk into the kitchen and open the fridge. Not five minutes later, her mother pulled into the driveway. It was a perfect clockwork, never changing day after day, except for the weekends, when a new clockwork routine took over. Outside she heard the sound of another car, louder and older sounding, but she couldn't tell if they passed by or not.

Downstairs the front door opened again. She heard her mom call out for her dad. Once he joined her, she could hear them having a rather animated conversation. It wasn't until she heard another distinctively different and unrecognizable voice join the conversation that she sat up straighter. Her parents never usually brought people home with them especially her mother. Within minutes though, all was quiet again. She strained her ears. She had not heard the other person leave. Maybe there never was a third person there?

Suddenly, there was a slight knock on her bedroom door.

"Come in," she called out, throwing her legs over the side of her bed and grabbing a book from her night table. It was probably her mom.

"Hi there," a voice that definitely want her mom said. It wasn't her dad either.

"Who are you?" she asked her tongue stumbling over the words. Oh she knew alright, boy did she know, but it was to astonishing to believe. How many times did the man of your dreams come walking into your bedroom with a simple 'hi there' and a charming smile? Not freaking ever. She must be dreaming again.

"Your not dreaming honey," the man said. "And I know you've seen me before."

Her mouth dropped open.

"You're physic," the man said. "You've been seeing things, people, places you've never been to."

She didn't speak. What were you supposed to say to a man who seemed to know stuff about you that you never had told another soul?

"Come with me," the man suddenly pleaded. "I can teach you so much more. You and me," the man said with a smile. "We're the same. I can show how to see so much more than the future."  
She narrowed her eyes too afraid to hope that his was all true.

"You mean," she started hesitantly. "This is all real...the dreams..." she trailed off.

"There's a whole other world out there waiting for you, darling," the man drawled.

Was it so wrong that his voice made her want to do things she never would have ever considered before?

"Come with me," he intoned.

This was her chance. It was actually happening. That exciting life of mystery and power. Suddenly, killing that man in her dream didn't seem so bad if she could be with this handsome stranger in front her. But the thought of her parents brought her back to reality.

Who was she kidding? How could she just up and leave? Her parents surely would put a stop to that no matter what she said. But it wasn't just that. She loved them too much to abandon them like this.

"I can't just leave all this..." she looked around her room. "My parents..."

The man...Dean, she remembered the boy calling him that in her dream, smiled and she literally melted inside.

"It's already taken care of," he said, turning away from her and walking out the door.

She sat on her bed deciding whether or not to follow him, slightly afraid to find out what he meant. She looked down at her lap at the book she had grabbed when Dean had first entered her room. It was Peter Pan, her favorite. She thought of Wendy and how she had her whole life written out her. That was why she loved this book so much. She could relate to Wendy in every way.

She thought of how Peter Pan had come and whisked Wendy away to a more adventurous life. Wendy still had had to return to the real world, but at least Wendy had gotten the adventure of her life. Maybe it was a silly idea, but she wanted that adventure too. It certainly helped that her knight in shining armor was the most gorgeous man she had ever seen in her life.

Making up her mind she grabbed her backpack and threw out her school books. She stuffed some clothes and other things that she would need inside of it and then zipped it up. Then, with one last glance around her room, she opened her door for the last time and stepped into the hallway. Walking down the stairs, she heard her parent's voices coming from the living room. Dean was talking to them as if he were an old friend.

"Sweety there you are," her mother said, taking notice of her presence. "You're brother here was just telling me about what happened to your parents."

She looked to Dean, asking for an explanation.

"It was quite sudden," Dean said in response. "Just one day. They were gone. You just never know where life will take you or those around you."

It was so heart felt that if he weren't completely making it up, she would've fell for it hook line and sinker.

"Well, we better not keep you. You have a long road ahead of you," her father said.

Her mother sighed and reached out to her for a hug. Holding her close she spoke in her eyes.

"Its been nice having you. You remind me so much of my daughter," she said sadly, pulling away.

Curious, Ava spoke up.

"Your daughter?" she asked.

Her father answered her question.

"She died just over a year ago," he said. "In an a car accident."

He was quiet after that.

"Thanks for looking after her until I could get here," Dean said, breaking the morose silence that had overcome them all.

"Of course," her mother said.

As she walked out of the house, she couldn't help but feel sad for the life she was leaving behind. Maybe this whole Peter Pan adventure wasn't as appealing as she thought it was. Behind her, she heard the door shut. One door closes, another opens right? What was done was done. She walked over to where Dean wash holding a car door open. The car was definitely old, a classic, but that's as far as her knowledge of cars reached.

Holding her questions for a while longer, she got into the car and waited for Dean to get in front. It was then that she noticed that they weren't alone.

"Who are you?" she asked. If this was any other situation, she would've cringed at how rude that sounded, but this wasn't just any situation. This was the start of brand new life and she was going to do what she always thought about doing but never had the confidence to do.

As soon as the boy turned in his seat to look at her, she knew the answer to her question. It was the boy she had stabbed in her dreams. But he seemed different. He didn't speak. He seemed scared.

Dean finally got in and the boy turned away. With the start of the engine, the question of just what had happened to her parents came back in full force.

"What did you do to my parents?" she asked loudly.

The man gave her a cocky grin.

"Do you really think they would have let you go any other way?" he asked.

"What exactly did you do?" she asked. She couldn't help but notice that the boy in the passenger seat, though doing his best to look invisible, was paying avid attention to what they were saying. It made her feel uncomfortable. Dean, of course, knew this the moment she thought it.

"Don't worry about him," he said. "He's not capable of hurting a wont do anything to you. Will he?"

They turned onto another road.

"Will he?" Dean asked more forcefully. There was an added tone of danger laced in with question this time he asked it. She was glad it was not directed at her. It made her wonder not for the first time, if this was really a smart thing to have gone with this stranger, dreams or no dreams.

A small no was heard from the passenger seat, so quiet she might have mistaken it for a random car noise if she wasn't listening for it. While it didn't seem to satisfy Dean, he let it go anyway. Turning to the window, she gazed out at the familiar buildings and places she knew fondly. Her old life was passing her by and for a moment she mourned it.

But only for a moment

* * *

John stood, listlessly leaning against his truck as he filled up his gas tank. He had followed the highway as far as Peoria but no farther. There were too many forks in the road to just pick one. So now here he was at a gas station on the borders of said city waiting for something, anything, to come up to give him somewhere to go.

Beside him he heard the gas stop pumping. Taking the nozzle, he put it back on the pump and got back into his truck. He looked at the phone in his hand. Despite it not vibrating in the time he had pumped gas, he still checked it over. You couldn't be too sure about these things. Yet, there still were no calls. He really hated this part of the process.

Seeing no one else waiting to use the pump, he just sat there in the darkness of night. He thought about finding a motel and getting some sleep, but he was just too anxious to be on the move that he probably would just be wasting money pacing in that room.

He sighed tiredly and rubbed his weary eyes.

In his lap, his phone started vibrating. Like a starving man at a buffet, he immediately snatched the phone and answered it without looking at the caller id to see to was calling.

"John," the voice on the other end said.

"Missouri?" he asked surprised, recognizing her voice immediately.

He had not been expecting her call. Amid all the calls he had made, the message he had left her had been forgotten. An old friend, Missouri had been one of the first people he had turned to find answers about what had caused Mary's death. She knew all about the supernatural world and furthermore was a psychic and a very good one at that.

"Don't sound so surprised. You called me remember?" she remarked.

John pressed his lips together in a tight smile.

"Yeah, I remember," he said.

During that time when he had turned to her for answers about Mary's death, she had mentioned the strangest thing about Sam. He had all but forgotten it in denial but truth be told, it came up to the forefront of his mind every once in a while. That once in a while had been during a particularity bland patch of road when his mind had wandered to way back when.

"Your boys are in trouble," Missouri commented.

"I've been trying to get to Dean, but Sam-" he was interrupted.

"John, both of your boys are in trouble," she said pointedly. "I can't see how it all ends, but John, Sam needs you more than ever."

He huffed. Missouri was as vague as ever.

"Sam is the one who got us all into this trouble in the first place," he said. "Dean is terrified-"

"Dean is terrified because he doesn't know what's going on, not because of Sam," Missouri urged.

"But he told me-"

"I wouldn't be so quick to trust his words," Missouri said cryptically.

"Are you calling my boy a liar?" John said angrily.

"John," Missouri said, her tone pleading for him to stay calm. "You're the one who called me."

John pinched the bridge of his nose with another huff. He didn't have time for this.

"You've been thinking about the past haven't you John," Missouri said.

John sighed.

"What I said is still true," Missouri said.

John was quiet. He had never known the woman to be wrong, but surely this time, she had to be.

"It's not too late you know John," Missouri said, filling the silence. "Whether you believe me or not, you can still stop what's coming."

This peaked John's interest.

"What's coming?" he asked.

"Ever read the bible John?" Missouri answered.

John snorted.

"Something big is going down John." Missouri said. "And I mean heaven and hell big. The spirits have been getting restless, well, more than usual, but they're whispering things John and it ain't any good."

This sounded ridiculous to John.

"And just how am I involved in all of this?" John said, itching to just hang up and drive.

"The decisions you make John,"Missouri said, "They will be very important to how this all ends up."

It was like talking to a dammed fortune teller. But like a fortune teller, since when had Missouri ever made perfect sense?

"Do you know where they are Missouri?" John asked tiredly.

"I wish I did John," she answered.

"I have to go Missouri," John said monotonically.

"Just you think twice about Sam," Missouri said in rush before the line went dead.

John put the phone done with a growl. He couldn't understand what everyone else saw in Sam, why they all tirelessly defended the boy. Sure there was a time when he would have been the first person to defend the boy after Dean of course. But that was before and this was now.

Suddenly a voice echoed in his mind; one that he had not heard in years.

Sam is a good person. I will not let you ruin my son.

"Mary?" he whispered.

He glanced into the rear view mirror just to make sure he was still there. Looking around the parking lot, he saw that he was still the lone vehicle parked at the pumps. The echoes of his beloved Mary still bounced around in his head; the shock at hearing her and hearing her angry with him, gripped him tight.

Quickly he put his keys into the ignition. He had to get out of here. He had to find Dean. He knew he was going to hell anyway. So what if Mary would be mad at him, he would never have to face her. Sam was not Sam anymore and it was up to him to take care of the boy since everyone else was so blinded.

But no matter how set he was about this all, Missouri's and now Mary's words still resonated within him, haunting him and giving rise to a tiny spark of doubt.

When his hand started to vibrate, he realized he had not put the phone down. looking at the display, he saw that it was Caleb. He was a fellow hunter and an ammo/weapon supplier of a sort.

"John, that you?" a man's voice asked.

"Caleb?" he asked in return.

"I got a call from a friend. Owns a gas station out by Wilmington, not far from you," he explained, getting to business right away. "Said he saw a man that looked just like Dean stop in to refuel. 67 Impala. It's them John. He said they seemed to be headed toward Chicago."

"Caleb, I can't thank-"

"Don't mention it," Caleb interrupted. "Take the 55. You just find those boys of yours."

Without any further words, the line went dead. John didn't waste a moment. He turned the key and started the engine. He was out of that gas station before anyone could blink.

* * *

Sam sighed. He was becoming a professional at that. In the backseat, the new girl sat leaning against the door, sleeping the night away. No matter how he tried, he couldn't fall asleep. The worry of everything that had happened today was weighing heavily on him. He glanced at the girl again. Why was she with them? Why had Dean picked her up? But none of those questions held the amount of importance that this question did: What was going on?

Outside the sky was dark. The landscape passing by was indistinguishable and blended into one big dark void. Sam almost wished his mind could be like that so that he wouldn't have to think such dark and depressing thoughts.

"You know Sam," Dean said suddenly, breaking the tense silence. "This isn't working."

Sam looked at Dean, not daring to speak.

"This," Dean said. "You, me…but mostly you."

Sam didn't know what to say to that, if there was anything he could say. This was so out of character for Dean. The way he was speaking, the mannerisms. It was...off.

"Tell me then," Sam said. "Explain. I want to understand. Really, I do."

And it was true. He wanted to know what Dean was thinking, what he was planning and why he was acting so strange. In the following days his hop would turn into an example of 'being careful what you wished for.'

"You want to understand?" Dean said. "I'll tell you."

Before Sam knew it, they were pulling to the side of the road and Dean was getting out of the Impala.

"Come on Sam," Dean goaded. "You want to understand."

Sam watched Dean, fear rising in his eyes as he watched his big brother walk around the front of the car and roughly pull his door open.

"Dean please," Sam begged. "Please just calm down."

"Oh I am calm Sam," Dean said, unfastening Sam's seat belt and yanking him out of the car. If Sam wasn't so terrified, he would've admired the new strength that seemed to overcome Dean as his brother seemed to be able to push him around like a rag doll. It had been a while since Dean had been able to do that because of his growing height.

"Do you know how hard it was to wake up in that hospital and find out that you were with that slimy demon? To find out that you had helped shoot all those people?" Dean said. "I know me and dad did stuff and said stuff to you that we shouldn't have, but we're family. You should've trusted that we didn't mean those things and that it was all a ploy by that demon to get you to trust him."

Sam stared at his brother in shock. How could Dean even begin to understand everything that had happened to him; everything that the demon had done to him to make him do the things he did?

"You...I can't...," Sam explained. "It's not that simple."

"This whole thing isn't simple Sam," Dean said. "I get that, really, I do, but I don't get you."

Sam sighed.

"You weren't there,' Sam said brokenly.

At this Dean grabbed Sam's other arm and threw him against the Impala.

"What do you expect me to do Sam?" Dean thundered. "Dad is out who knows where trying to find us so he can kill you."

Sam didn't know what hurt more, the abuse or Dean's biting words.

"Dean," Sam said, his voice uneven. "You're hurting me."

Dean frowned and then pushed Sam away, causing him to trip over his own feet and land on the ground.

Sam looked at Dean heartbroken. His brother now had a hand on his forehead the other on his back. He seemed to fighting an internal battle within himself.

"This has to stop now Sam," Dean said turning to him, but stepping no closer than he already was. "We can't be together like this."

Sam's breath caught in his throat. Dean couldn't mean what he thought he did.

"No," he whispered.

"It's what you wanted anyway," Dean said, as if he was convincing himself that it really was the right thing to do.

Sam pushed himself off the ground.

"Dean, no!" Sam said.

"You stay back Sam," Dean said, "I mean it."

Sam shook his head.

"I can't let you leave here without me," Sam said. "I came back for you. You can't get rid of me that easily."

"Sam," Dean said, looking at him with clear eyes and not a trace of the internal battle that seemed to have taken place just minutes before. "I didn't want to say this but...well, to be frank, I'm rather tired of you."

"What?" Sam asked standing there with a permanent look of confusion and hurt etched on his face.

"You wanted the truth and there it is," Dean said nonchalantly. "I'm tired of having the clean up after your messes. I'm tired of having to take your side even though I'd rather not. But most of all, I'm just tired of you."

It was his worst fear come true. Dean had lied. When he had said that he Sam was all he ever needed, he lied. He should have known. But Dean had seemed so sincere. He had seen it in his brothers eyes. It had been the truth.

_Then._

This was _now_.

Yet, even as broken as he felt, he knew that this was not the Dean that had fought so hard to convince him to live again. This was not the Dean who risked his own life to save him. This was not Dean. It suddenly all clear to him, even though he still didn't know what was wrong with him. All he could pt together was that it was Dean, yet it wasn't. It didn't make any sense, but it made him feel a little better an more resolute to get to the bottom of it all. Dean had done so much for him in his own time of need, this was his time to step up and return the favor.

"Let me help you," Sam said. "We can work through this, just give me another chance."

"No Sam," Dean said. "You'll stay where you are if you know what's good for you."

"You'll take me with you if you know what's good for you," Sam threw back without thinking, instantly regretting the way his words came out like a threat.

The first punch came out of nowhere, knocking him backwards. Sam touched his pulsing jaw. The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional hurt of getting hit by his own brother, real or not.

"Why?" he said quietly.

Dean didn't hear him. He was already walking away. Not one to give up so easily, Sam ran after him and tackled him to the ground, a sudden fear coming over him.

"You can't leave me here Dean," Sam pleaded. "Don't leave me here alone."

Dean looked sorry, but only for a moment.

"It has to be this way," Dean said before raising his fist again.

This time Sam was prepared, but not for the second blow. It sent him to the ground on his back. Dean quickly towered over him and hit him again.

"You stay away from me Sammy, you hear me?" Dean said. "Don't you dare follow me."

"Dean," Sam pleaded. "Please don't do this to me."

He saw Dean shake his head.

"No can do kiddo," were Dean's last words to him before everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7 Somebody's watching me

**Chapter 7**

**Somebody's watching me**

_I wake in the morning with one thing in my head,_  
_The haunting sound of chords I've yet to play_  
_It sounds like a warning that maybe I should stay in bed_  
_Before these winding roads lead me astray…_

_On the run, Tina Dickow_

* * *

He leaned against the door with a satisfied smile on his face, though if was being honest with himself, it was more of a grimace of relief. On the other side of the door, the sound of a running car could be heard along with some uncharacteristic thumping noises. His father was fighting for his life, but it was futile. He had closed the garage door as soon as his father had pulled in, made it so that the car wouldn't turn off, and locked his father in the car; all while standing on the other side of the door that lead from the garage into the house. An added bonus was his uncle. He was in the car as well. He had not planned on his uncle being with his dad, but it was all the better. At least he could get them both in one swoop as horrible as it all sounded.

Slowly the pounding noises faded away. They had succumbed. Pushing himself off the door, he walked away. He had one more person to take care of.

Once he was in the kitchen, he watched his step mother calculatingly. She was chopping onions, preparing dinner. She looked harmless, but he knew better. He eyed the large knife she was using and considered just how he was going to end her life. She had helped make his life a living hell. She would pay for that and then he would be free.

Without his new found power he would never have been able to get this far. It had stared barely a month ago. He had woken up one morning and found he could do what ever his mind thought of. First it was the alarm clock turning off with just a thought. Then it was the glass flying into his hand at the breakfast table when no one was looking. From that day onward, he had worked hard on honing his ability. It was his way out; his way away from the abuse.

The abuse was a constant in his life. It was all he knew, along with the fact that he had caused his mother's death. She had died over his crib in a fire and even though he was only a baby at the time, it was enough for his father to blame him for her death. His uncle had only joined in on the abuse, bonding with his brother with every punch and were twisted and sick.  
Well no more.

They were dead and soon, his step mother would be in hell with them. Over the years, she had always been there, watching. Yet she had not done a thing to stop his father, nor his uncle. She had simply turned a blind eye. for the the longest time, he had told himself that she would've stopped it if she could trust that they wouldn't turn on her when they were done, but that excuse could only go so far when you saw her eyes watching the two beat him senseless day after day. After a while, she became just as bad as the two men as far as he was concerned.  
There was a knock at the door.

"Could you get that Max?" his step mom asked him briefly looking up at him, then turning her attention back to her onions.

He didn't say a word and left; of all the times for someone to come knocking on their doorstep. He opened the door with a sour look on his face. On the other side of the door was a young man. He had a knowing look on his face.

"Hi Max," the man greeted.

"How do you know my name?" he asked wearily. Not many people came to their door, let alone people who knew his name.

"Oh I know much more than just your name," the man said. "I know about how your family treats you-"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said, about to slam the door on the visitor, if not for the man's hand that kept the door from completely this was another social worker, he sure was more determined than the others that had came before.

"More importantly," the man continued. "I know just how...special...you are."

If it were any other person, he would have called them a pervert and tried even harder to shut the door, maybe even call his step mom. But the way this man said it...he knew.  
"What do you want?" he asked.

The man smiled.

"I want to help you," he explained.

"I don't need any help," Max stated.

"What will you do after you kill your step mother?" the man asked, revealing another bit of information that he shouldn't have known. "What will you do then?"

He thought for a moment. He hadn't really planned that far ahead. He supposed he could play the victim in all of this or simply high tail it out of town and find a new life elsewhere.

"What would you have me do?" he asked the man. He would play this silly game.

"I know what it's like to be different," the man explained. "And I know there are others like me and you. Together we can work on your abilities, help you grow strong and then we will be able to change the world."

Max raised his eyebrows.

"You're seriously telling me that you're Professor X and I'm your Wolverine?" he asked skeptically.

"More like Magneto and Phoenix if you ask me," the man replied.

So the man knew his comic books.

"If you're magneto, then why should I go with you?" he asked. "Magneto is the bad guy."

The man smirked.

"From a certain point of view," the man remarked.

"How very Obi-Wan Kenobi of you," Max muttered under his breath.

The man did have a point. Magneto sure thought he was doing the right thing. If you looked closely, you could even make a case against Professor X. It really was a matter of how you looked at the two characters.

"So what if I go with you?" he asked. "I need more than just a few comic book references."

The man smiled.

"I know just the thing," the man said, pushing the door open and walking around Max into the house.

Max followed him, because, while the man was still a stranger and knew more than he really had the right too, he had an undeniable aura of power that drew him in. And it wasn't the power that you followed because you knew they would hurt you if you didn't, it was the type of power that inspired loyalty.

* * *

When Sam opened his eyes, he found himself blinded by light. The blue sky was above him and a few puffy white clouds drifted by. It was an altogether peaceful scene, if not for the rather sharp rocks that were digging painfully into his back.

_Strange._

Slowly, realization began to dawn on him. He was laying on the ground. That why there were rocks digging into his back. Pushing himself up until he was sitting up, he examined his surroundings. As it tuned out, the ground wasn't that rocky. He back just was that way. But it wasn't only his back that hurt. His jaw ached something horrible and his arms were sore, especially his wrists.

Taking a closer look around himself, he saw bushes, trees, and a road beyond. No wonder no one had noticed a passed out body by the side of road. He was practically hidden from the view of the road.

With a tired sigh he pushed himself up until he was standing. The action reminded him of his aching wrist. Upon closer inspection he saw that it was throbbing and looked swollen. A strange sense of déjà vu hit him. Hadn't he already been through this before?

Where was he, and where was Dean?

_Dean!_

It all came rushing back to him; the words exchanged between the two of them, the fight...Dean leaving. Suddenly his injuries weren't the worst of his problems.

How could Dean just leave like that? And how could he…why?

If ever there was time for a breakdown, it was now. He was torn between anger and sorrow at what had happened. It would be so easy to just let himself fall to the ground and never get up again. It would be so easy to fall away like he had when he had been left in that hotel room all those many days ago, but he couldn't let himself do that, no matter how much he wanted to. He had fallen into the hands of the yellow eyed demon. Who knew what would happen a second time.

Besides, he couldn't let himself go Dean was out there needing help and he knew that Dean needed help no matter that his actions showed otherwise. If there was a person he knew like the back of his hand, it was Dean and the way his brother had acted last night had been a call for help.

It was with that thought in mind that he started walking.

* * *

Max followed the man to the kitchen. It was strange how the man seemed to know the way all on his own.

"Hi there Mrs. Miller," the man greeted.

His step mom looked up sharply.

"Do I know you?" she asked with a soft friendly voice glancing at Max a second later. Max knew better. She was angry with him for letting the man in the house.

Max watched as she gripped the knife highly in her hands while trying not to look like anything was wrong.

"No, Mrs. Miller," the man answered. "But I do know you."

His step mom seemed at a loss for words.

"I know everything about you," the man continued. "I know what you've done and…what you haven't."

The man glanced at him pointedly then locked eyes with his step mom accusingly.

"I…I don't know what you're talking about," she said slowly holding his gaze.

The man laughed.

"Your body language tells me otherwise," he remarked glancing at the knife she held.

This man was good.

"Look," his step mom said acknowledging his implications. "I didn't do anything."

The man raised his eyebrows.

"Too right you did nothing," he said. "And that's why I won't do anything when Max here shows you just how much you doing nothing meant to him."  
His step mom looked at him and raised her eyebrow.

"Max?" she said confused. "What is this man talking about?"

Max was wondering the same thing. Catching his eyes, the man tilted his head toward his step mother and made his hand into a fist and made a subtle stabbing motion. This man was seriously condoning his step mother's death?

She deserved it though and hadn't he been planing to do just that before the man had come knocking? Why change now? Besides seeming to really understand his plight, this man had offered him an out and it was much more than he had planned for himself. He thought of how it would be like to leave this place and be with people who actually cared for once.  
He concentrated on the knife and within seconds it was floating in the air in front of his step mother's face.

"Max?" she pleaded. "What are you…how…" She stuttered. "Please don't do this!"

Max smirked as a tear fell down his cheek.

"Please understand!" she continued. "You know what your dad is like."

"Was," he corrected.

At this, his step mom paled.

"Dear old uncle too," he added.

"Max," she gasped.

"Don't worry; you'll see them again soon," Max said with a chilling smile as he moved the knife suddenly, "Real soon."

* * *

He didn't know how long he had been walking and he didn't really care. When you had no destination in mind, it didn't really matter where you went or how long it took you get there. Up above the sun was shining brightly. He licked his dry lips. Water wouldn't be such a bad thing to have right now; that and a coat. While the sun was ever shining, it still was cold. When Dean had so unceremoniously dropped him off in the middle of nowhere, he had left him with only a light sweater to stave off the cold. It wasn't much, but at least it wasn't snowing.

The road he was following was fairly busy and while there had been a few people that had stopped to offer him a ride, he had refused. He didn't trust anyone. He would get to wherever he was going on his own power.

Up ahead, there was a turn off. Vaguely he could make out a gas station and some other buildings just off the ramp. A drinking fountain was sure to be within the gas station or at least one of the surrounding buildings.

When he finally walked into the dingy gas station, the sight of the drinking fountain in the back was enough to make him smile before he promptly rushed over and began drinking. The attendant behind the counter watched him warily as he made his way back toward the exit after his drink. He supposed he must of looked a mess, but what could he do about it?

Just outside of the door, there was a bench. Taking a seat, he leaned back and took a deep breath letting it out with a whoosh. It was nice to be off his feet. He looked around. There were two trucks gassing up, but other than that the place was pretty sparse. He sighed. Now was the part he had been dreading. Walking had distracted him from his problems. Now that he was sitting peacefully, his mind had nothing else to distract itself with.

One of the trucks pulled away, making the place seem lonelier. He watched it go, not noticing the person who had appeared next to him seemingly out of nowhere. When he finally did notice that someone was so unexpectedly close to him, he nearly had a heart attack. The person merely glanced at him, their expression unreadable.

"Sorry," Sam said blushing.

It was a girl, a very pretty one. She had long blond hair, clear soft looking skin, and full lips. But pretty or not, she was someone who was sitting too close to him and he felt fear grip him. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed how she had not stopped staring at him ever since he had noticed her sitting there. It was a little unnerving. He glanced at her casually and smiled nervously. What did she want?

As if reading his mind, the girl reached into her picket and pulled out a small envelope. She handed it to him wordlessly, stood up, and started walking away.

"Wait!" Sam called out, but the girl kept on walking until she disappeared around the corner of the gas station. Following as quickly as his aching body could, Sam rushed to the side of the building only to find that she was nowhere in sight. It was as if she had disappeared.

He looked down at the envelope in his hands wearily. It had happened within minutes and now he was left more confused than ever. It was something else to think about however, so he welcomed the curiosity and tore open the envelope and looked inside. There were two pieces of paper. He pulled them out and examined them. On the first piece of paper were two names written in ink: Andy Gallagher and Ansem Weems. The second piece of paper was a bus ticket with a destination of Guthrie, Oklahoma. He stared at the papers in his hand with confusion. Why had that girl given him this? What did she mean by it and why didn't she explain herself?

He looked at the ticket. It looked like the specified bus would be leaving within the next 30 minutes. Curiosity moved him once again. He went back inside and asked the attendant about the address. The attendant was less than helpful, simply thinking that he was bad news all around and looking for trouble, judging him on his less than acceptable appearance. But with patience, he had managed to find out that the address was merely down the street, not far away at all.

_Now what?_

Stepping outside once again, he sat down on the bench and stared at the envelope in his hands. The whole thing reeked of an unknown danger, yet he still found himself drawn toward finding that bus station and getting on that bus. It was something to do, however crazy it seemed. Did that girl want him to find these people? If he did, what was he supposed to do once he found them?

He had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. Bobby was who knows where if he was alive at all. He supposed he could go to Pastor Jim, but he knew that Jim would expect an explanation and he didn't feel like dredging everything up again. What he really wanted was to be alone. He needed time to think, time to plan, and most of all, time to just process and come to grips with everything that had happened within the last month. He couldn't help anyone if he was still lost in past, scatterbrained, and emotionally raw. Dean needed him to be complete if he was to have any chance of helping Dean, whether his brother wanted it or not.

However, the more he thought of going to that bus station and going to Guthrie, the more his paranoid hunter side fought it. Who knew what would happen if he were to get on that bus. What silent girl walks up to someone and gives them a free bus ticket? Especially to someone they didn't know? This whole thing was absurd. He considered dropping the envelope and its contents in the nearest trash can and continuing on his way, no matter how bleak the way looked, but the more adventurous and reckless side of him kept that envelope in his hands.

The loud familiar sound of a particular engine caused Sam to look up sharply from the envelope. What he saw had him rushing to be anywhere but where he was.

* * *

John had been driving for hours, only stopping once for a quick nap after he had almost pulled off the road toward a large tree going 90 miles an hour. With a yawn, he realized that it might be time for another nap. He abhorred the idea of another delay though, so he resolved to turn off at the next exit and find some coffee stat. It looked like he needed to fill up his truck again anyway.

As if sensing his wishes, the next exit appeared as soon as he had barely finished the thought. He didn't have to look far for a gas station. With any luck, they would have some decent coffee and he would be back on the road in no time.

With a tired groan he got out of his truck and made his way toward the mini mart to find that cup of coffee and pay for his gas. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed a quick movement behind the glass door, but when he looked again, there was nothing there. His tired eyes were getting the best of him.

The jingle of the door heralded his entrance. With a nod to the attendant he walked to the back wall and found a heated coffee pot just waiting for him. Behind him, there was another jingle from the glass doors. He turned around to see who had come in, he always liked to be aware of everyone around him, but found no one there. Only the faintest glimpse of someone rushing away could be seen. He hadn't noticed anyone else in the small area other than the attendant; his tiredness dulling his sense of awareness. He poured himself another cup of coffee. He couldn't afford to be so compromised again. The next time it happened, it might not be so harmless.

After he paid for his coffee and gas he went back to his truck. It was then that he noticed the same blond haired woman he had seen the previous day, standing on the other side of his truck's hood.

"Hey!" he called out, walking as fast as his could with the hot cups he was carrying.

The woman simply watched him come toward her before she walked toward the driver's side door effectively disappearing from his sight behind the height of the truck. When he reached where she had been standing, she was long gone though he couldn't for the life of him think of where she could have possibly gone.

One thing he was sure of, he was getting out of here.

As he looked in the rear view mirror he noticed a retreating figure in the distant background. The person reminded him vaguely of Sam but it was too far to tell and much too far fetched to believe. He just needed more coffee and then his eyes would stop playing these tricks on him. That was all.

Once he was back on the highway and had some coffee in him, he breathed a sigh a relief. That stop had been much more than he had bargained for. But at last it was over. Hopefully any further stops would not be as…trippy? He wasn't sure how to describe the experience.

At least now he was back on the case.

* * *

Max was content. For the first time in years he felt free. Sitting here, the window wide open, the wind flying through his outstretched hand, he felt like he could take on the world. No more would his abusive family lay a hand on him. No more would they control his destiny. He was free.

Beside him, Dean drove on, his eyes on the road in front of him. He couldn't tell what the other man was thinking, but it must have been pretty deep judging from the look on his face. Dean could be pretty intimidating but no matter what, Dean had helped to free him and for that, he was forever indebted.

* * *

As the bus pulled out of the parking lot, Sam stared out of the window forlornly. His emotions were haywire and his mind was scattered everywhere. First the strange girl with the envelope then his father showing up; he had gone from tired to confused to frightened beyond belief. Now he was just plain exhausted.

Seeing his father in that first moment had made up his mind about taking the bus to Oklahoma. It provided a way for him to put distance between him and his father. What happened when he got to his destination though was another story. But no matter what happened, he would be far away from here and that was all that counted to him right now.


	8. Chapter 8 Just a dream

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 8**

**Just a dream**

_I shiver and shake the warm air cold_

_I'm alone on my own_

_In every mistake I dig this hole_

_Through my skin and bones..._

_Blackbirds, Linkin Park_

* * *

It was sometime in the middle of the night, close to dawn, when Sam finally arrived in Guthrie. It didn't seem like such a hot destination, judging by the few people that got off the bus along with him. Wearily, he took in his surroundings. He had not slept a bit on the bus even with how tired he was, too paranoid of the people around him. Every time he would glance around, he would see the others staring at him as if they knew; as if they could see all the wrong he had done. Their eyes accused him. It was completely irrational, yet overwhelming.

He could hear the snow crunching beneath the feet of the people walking around him as they grabbed their stuff from beneath the bus. Since he didn't bring anything with him save for what was in his pockets, he just stood there.

Soon though, the bus continued on its way and the people around him disappeared into the darkness. He was alone and knew nothing about the town or where to go. All he knew was that he was supposed to find two people named Andy and Ansem. The town seemed small enough though. Finding them didn't sound too hard. It was what he was going to do once he found them, that was difficult. Who knew why he was supposed to find them, if he could trust the person who had given him the mission in the first place. How could he be sure that she wanted to help him in the first place? What if this was some elaborate scam to kill him off? Wouldn't it be just his luck to fall into the hands of people who didn't even know of all he had done and wanted to kill him simply for the sake of killing?

Strangely enough, however cold he had been feeling earlier in the day, now he was the opposite. He was burning up, even though logic told him, with the darkness and snow around him, that it had to be much colder here, then where he had been earlier. He sighed wearily at the thought of how he must be coming down with something.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the piece of paper the girl had given him. He stared at it for a moment before crumpling it in his hand, walking up to a garbage can, and throwing it in. Then he continued on in the darkness.

With everything that had happened to him and that was still happening, nothing good could surely ever come to him. He was cursed. The demon had told him as much. There was no one he could trust, not even himself. So why would he follow the advice of some girl, grateful as he was for the free ticket away from his dad, who didn't even explain herself?

He shook his head and looked to the ground. At least with no destination in mind, there was no way that Dean or his father could know his next move, that is, if they had even gotten this far after him or if they were even still looking. He wouldn't take any chance.

This was how it would have to be from now on.

* * *

Dean was living in a fog.

Moments came and went without order or sense of time. He was getting better though, at rising above the smog and seeing out into the world that he had once lived in, but it wasn't fast enough for his own liking. He had to know what was going on, what the thing controlling him was planning. Most of all, he had to know that Sam was OK. Knowing his brother, Sam wouldn't be too far away.

Vaguely, the fog around him started to fade away revealing the interior of his beloved Impala. He cringed. The thought of someone else, someone like his current captor, driving his baby was revolting. But he had bigger things to worry about sadly. His body looked to the passenger seat and then in the rear view mirror. Beside him was a boy that looked to be the same age as Sam. In the back seat was a girl. He wanted to ask them who they were and what they were doing in his car, but he couldn't get the words out. Slowly, the Impala came to a stop.

_This is for my eyes only...well your eyes, but you get the point._

Dean took in a sharp breath as everything around him started to fade away into darkness.

"What are you doing?" he asked frantically.

Every time the darkness came, bad things were sure to follow; first at Bobby's place, then at that diner. However, when the darkness left and he was free to see again, even worse things happened. Most recently, at least from what he could recall, he could vividly remember the look in Sam's eyes as he was beaten to a pulp by his own brother. Every punch, every push, and every hurtful word had struck him like lightening, especially when he saw the hurt it caused his little brother. It hurt even more not to be able to stop the himself from hurting Sam. But most of all, what hurt more was the thought that his brother thought it was him who was abusing him. What else could Sam think?

Sam had dealt with so much more than he should have had to and here he was adding to his brother's pain. He wished he could take back everything the demon had said with his mouth and done with his hands, but it was too late for that, if there ever would be time for it in the future with the way things were currently going. He only hoped that Sam would figure out what this thing was with his abnormally large brain and save the day while at the same time hoping that Sam wasn't too broken to pull it all together to do so. It really was asking for too much, but there was nothing else for him to cling to. It was his only hope at the moment.

_How sweet, _a voice echoed in the darkness of his mind with an attached_ Aww. If only your dear brother knew just how much you loved him._

All was quiet for a moment.

_Oh I forgot_, the voice continued,_ you beat your brother and left him in the middle of nowhere. Way to show your love Deannie._

"What do you want with me?" Dean shouted angrily.

In the vast darkness surrounding him, his voice echoed endlessly.

_Answer me!_ he ordered.

_All in good time Dean,_ the voice answered. _We have plenty of time to show and tell. Let's not ruin the surprise._

"Just tell me…please?" Dean was losing steam and just wanted it all to be over.

As if in answer to his questions, the darkness around him dissipated to reveal a busy city street, People were passing by along sidewalks, going places. Cars drove by. It was a typical street filled with typical looking people.

As he glanced around, standing on the sidewalk, a large man walked right through him and continued on walking, not noticing anything out of the ordinary. confused and quite a bit creeped out, Dean looked down at himself then around at the people walking by. When yet another person walked right through him, he finally came to terms with the fact that they couldn't see him.

What was going on?

As he looked around once more, his eyes were drawn back to the man who had first gone through him. He had walked a fair distance ahead, but it was the turn toward the road that made him stand out of the crowd. The man didn't slow his pace. Did he seriously think that the cars would stop for him if he came at them without warning?

Shaking his head, it was then that he noticed that someone else was also watching the man.

"Sam!" he said glad, yet confused at the sight. He started walking toward him only to stop abruptly as he watched in horror as Sam chased the man who had by now stepped onto the street, still not looking where he was going. But that was not what had him frozen in time. Turning his head briefly, he saw that bus was headed for the both of them at full speed. Suddenly everything was happening in slow motion.

The buses brakes screeched in vain as they failed to stop in front of the pair of men in the street. With one last effort Dean saw Sam finally reach the man and give him a great push that sent the man out of the buses path. The next thing Dean knew, the bus went right through the space Sam had been standing before everything went black.

"Sam!" Dean yelled in a panic.

What was this? Was this the things way of torturing him? Making him see his brother die?

"What do you want?" Dean shouted. He needed to know that what he had seen had not been real, that it had simply been a made up dream made to torture him rather than reality.

_Would you shut up?_ the voice came at him annoyed. _I'm doing important work here, and you going berserk isn't helping._

"What was that?" Dean asked.

_What was what?_ The voice replied.

"That!" Dean said, "Sam, the bus, the…"

Dean trailed off.

The voice laughed.

_I figured you would be stronger than this, but it looks like you are losing it like everyone else does._

Dean was taken aback.

"Everyone else?" he asked.

The voice sighed.

_Yeah, you know, all those poor unfortunate souls who get possessed by the likes of me_. The voice stopped then smirked. _Don't tell me you of all people don't know about demon possession?_

Demon possession?

_What, Daddy never told you the first thing about demons? Well at least after he told you what miserable s.o.b.'s we are._

The voice let out a little chuckle.

Dean was silent. His mind was tying in vain to comprehend what the voice was telling him. They had never paused to think about the specifics about demons. They had only ever known of one and he had never been too keen on revealing anything about himself or were he came from beyond what was standard knowledge. They had never thought about how demon's worked. Possessing people? Of all things. It just had never came up. And now he was paying for that hole in his knowledge dearly; and Sam...

_Guess not._

With that the voice was quiet, leaving Dean to think about what had just been revealed to him.

They weren't pretty thoughts.


	9. Chapter 9 One thing more

**Hey everyone!**

**I deleted the previous version of this chapter because I found that it fit in better later, so I guess for all of you who read it, you got a sneak peek of a future chapter :D Anywho, here's a double update to keep this story rollin'.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**CHAPTER 9**

**One thing more**

_You're sure you hurt for so long,_  
_you've got nothing else to loose._  
_You say your not gonna fight,_  
_cause no one will fight for you..._  
_Robot Boy, Linkin Park_

* * *

He was tired, yet at the same time he wasn't.

People passed him by on the sidewalk without a second glance. The sun bathed the area with bright light, yet Sam noticed none of it. All he could see was dark shadows. All he could feel was a paranoia that encompassed him completely, driving out any irrational thought he struggled to think. Overnight his world had gotten much grimmer and he couldn't think of any particular reason why. Sure he was depressed about everything and hopeless about the future, but this...

Abruptly his head burst into an explosion of pain. The world around him starting spinning as he grabbed at this head, dropping to his knees. His vision became blurry, fading in and out. The sound of gun shots rang through the air.

Then, just as abruptly as it had come, everything was clear again. Almost too clear. He gazed around himself slowly, vaguely noticing how everything was silent. People were still passing by, cars still driving by, but it was as if someone had pressed the mute button.

As he looked around, he found himself drawn to the sight of a black man in a nice suit coming out of a building ahead of him. While the man's demeanor exuded nothing but calm, there was something off about him. Seconds passed before the man turned toward the road and kept on walking seemingly not caring about the speeding cars passing just feet away.

Sam frowned. Was this man suicidal? Or simply arrogant thinking that the cars would stop for him?

The sound of a loud horn brought his attention to a large bus that was now headed toward the man who was now in the street. The man didn't seem to hear and try as Sam might, he couldn't block out the collision and the resulting sight of the man being barreled over by the bus and thrown like a rag doll in the air, before landing with a sickening crunch.

The sound of rushing air suddenly surrounded him, distracting him from what was in front of him. His sight went blurry once again and the pain in his head returned with a vengeance. When he opened his eyes again, everything was the same but there was no bleeding, broken man lying in the middle of the road. For all appearances, nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

That was when the sound of gun shots, coming out of the building ahead of him reached his ears. Stumbling to his feet, Sam looked around himself, wondering just how much time had passed and why no one had seemed to notice him on his knees holding his head, obviously in pain and not do a thing; not that he wanted them to, but it was strange none the less.

Up ahead he saw the man come out of the building just as he had seen minutes before. It was as if he had been able to jump into the future for a few minutes. Just ahead, the man turned toward the street. In the not so far distance, he could see the bus that would be the end of the man. He didn't think. He just acted. Though his head hurt too much to think it through coherently, he rushed forward to intercept the man. This was a death he could prevent, and perhaps a step toward redemption.

It definitely was a step toward something, but it wasn't redemption.

* * *

She hated this.

She was outside, with her back to the wall, leaning against the cheap motel door, her arms crossed across her chest, watching the reluctant sun rise.

It was the boring calm before the stormy fun. The only reason she tolerated this was because the payoff would be so much more than she could ever imagine and that was saying a lot since she had a very very active imagination and not only active, but creative. The end was coming, and hopefully it would be everything she had imagined it would be. She only wished it would come sooner. But what were a couple more days before the big show after all?

She considered calling up her...lover...of sorts, to...well...pass the time in a more exciting manner. He was after all, he best she had had in a millennia, but the sounds of the humans waking up in the room behind her pushed that thought into the back of her mind for the time being.

Pushing her self off the door, she turned toward the door and reached for the handle. It was time to make some progress.

* * *

The sound of the screeching tires of the bus as the driver tried in vain the stop the bus would be forever seared into his mind. I wasn't so much the sound as it was the way he had stared down the vehicle of death coming straight at him. He had grabbed the man and pushed him out of dangers way, only to be forcefully pushed back into the path of the bus by the struggling man. So distracted by the bus, he didn't see or hear the large beer truck coming from behind in the other lane.

It all had happened too fast and he had froze in the midst of it all. When everything was considered though, that moment of weakness had saved his life. Had he moved either way, he would have been hit full on by his choice of a bus or a beer truck. As it was, he was clipped by the bus and barely just missed ricocheting off the beer truck and back into the bus. From his viewpoint, laying on the ground facing the side of the street where the other man laid, the other man was not so lucky, or was just as lucky depending on what it was he had really wanted. The man's broken body was surrounded by people a short distance away.

"Are you okay?" a voice asked beside him.

Facing the voice, he saw that it was a guy who looked to be around the same age as he was. He had a kind face and his brown hair was short but messy. He had the aura of someone who wouldn't hurt a fly. Sitting up, it was then that he noticed how much his arm really hurt. It was the one that had taken the brunt of the bus collision. It was probably broken.

"Easy there," the guy beside him said, noticing his grimace when he tried to put weight on his arm. "Name's Andy."

This caught his attention.

"Gallagher?" Sam said tenitivly.

"How did you know?" Andy said rasing an eyebrow.

"Andy Gallagher?" he repeated.

"Do we know each other?" Andy said uncertainly, drawing back unconsciously, looking suspiciously back at him.

"No, but-"

"There he is!" a voice shouted.

Startled, Sam looked over to where the voice had Come from. Sirens filled the area as ambulance and police personnel arrived on the scene.

"_He_ pushed him in front of the bus!" Hands were pointing in his direction.

Disbelief etched itself on his face.

"There!" another person accused with a pointed finger.

"I didn't!" Sam fought back as the crowd gathered parted to make way for the police. "I tried to save him!"

But no one was listening. The police men kept on walking toward him, the one on the left pulling out a pair of handcuffs, neither one looking particularly concerned wether or not he had been hurt during the ordeal. What ever happened to 'innocent before proven guilty?'

"Are you telling the truth?" Andy asked, drawing his attention away from the advancing police. "Did you really not mean to hurt that guy?"

Sam didn't hesitate to answer.

"I was trying to save him," he said, not knowing why he felt the need to prove he was telling the truth to this guy. It wasn't like he could do anything about what was surely coming. Slightly confused, yet amused, Sam watched as Andy stood up in front of him blocking him from the police.

"He didn't do anything wrong," Andy said, his voice strong.

Sam could only wonder what this kid thought he was doing.

"Why don't you guys go back to the station, grab a box of donuts along the way, and just relax until your shifts are over," Andy said matter of factly.

It wasn't the way that Andy had spoken to the two cops that had Sam's jaw dropping open, but the way that they seemed to actually consider his words as something they should do.

"Are you sure?" One officer asked Andy.

"What are you doing? Arrest him!" an angry crowd member shouted.

Andy smiled ignoring the shout of protest and, standing between the two officers, put a hand on each one's shoulders, steering them away from Sam and toward the sidewalk.

"You guys have been working way too hard, just go relax," Andy said slyly. The fact that the officers were some of the fattest that Sam had seen, and had obviously been doing their fair share of relaxing, the officers seemed to hang on Andy's every word. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Sam struggled to get up. He needed to get out of here. The only problem was his arm, his ankle, and well, just his whole left side. Somehow though, through sheer determination, he managed to get himself up. Limping pitifully toward the other side of the sidewalk, Sam looked at the crowd and was alarmed to find that they had seemingly given up on the police men and were going for their own brand of justice. It was no use trying to run. It was no use trying to defend himself. They were on him within seconds.

All he had tried to do was save that man. How could it have looked like anything else?

As he laid there, having been tackled to the ground, every inch of his body being abused by the bloodthirsty crowd, marveling at the injustice of it all, he felt a strange sense of detachment over come him. The pain was non exsistant. As he stared at the people above him, he realized how empty their eyes looked, like they weren't really there at all. The lights were on, but no one was home.

"STOP!" a loud voice boomed over the crowd.

Sam didn't pay any heed to the voice, the people weren't hurting him anymore, at least he couldn't feel it. More words were spoken, but he didn't even try to decipher them. This floating detached thing was mildly amusing. Words flew around him, then screams. Why were the people screaming? Blinking his eyes hard, he looked around himself only to see his tormentors clutching at their heads and yelling out in pain. What was going on? Before he new it, someone was trying to lift him up.

"We gotta get out of here man," a voice said through the fog.

Sam had to agree. Anywhere was better then being here with all the screams and hurtful people. Man, he really felt funny. It was like his brain was mush. Trying to think was a becoming a losing battle.

_Time for a little nap Sammy boy, _a voice echoed in his mind.

Sam couldn't agree more with the voice, even though he had the vague feeling that he shouldn't be listening to it. But the suggestion was too strong to ignore. The world faded away and so did all of Sam's worries.

* * *

When he woke next, it was too a world of confusion. Immediately he went into fighting mode, ready to lash out at whoever decided to show themselves first. His panic levels rose to new heights as he fought to remember how in the world he had gotten into this situation. As he looked around himself, he found he was in the back of a van; but not only a van, but a moving one. There were no seats save for the front ones. Beneath his body was a soft carpet of fur. A disco ball rocked back and forth alarmingly close to his head. Partially covered by a blanket, was what looked liked a bong. It explained the unique smell that drifted around the vehicle cloyingly. It was then he finally thought to look at who was driving.

Slowly he crept toward the driver which wasn't far at all. The music filling the van was reminiscent of what Dean would play in the Impala. The driver seemed to be lost in his own little world. He was moving his head along to the beat of the song and his fingers were tapping along as well. Sam looked in the rear view mirror. It was then he recognizedthat it was the kid that had come to him after the bus had...

Wait.

He took a moment to assess how he felt and were he hurt. Surprisingly though, he didn't feel any worse for the wear. He still had a headache, but his ankle didn't seem to hurt as much before and his wrist, was, well, better too. Just what had this Andy guy done? Sam struggled to remember how he got into this van and why, but all he could come up with was a memory of a crowd overcoming him and then an uncomfortable floating feeling.

_Just what had happened?_

The sudden jerk of the Van brought Sam out of his thought as he grabbed out to the seat in front of him to steady himself.

"Dude! Just say something next time," Andy said taking a deep breath. "Don't just sit there all staring at me like a creep."

Sam raised his eyebrows somewhat startled by the outburst.

"Where are you taking me?" he asked.

"Where am I taking you?" Andy repeated sarcastically, "I'm taking the both of us to safety, that's what."

"But what happened?" Sam asked, still confused.

"The whole town went crazy," Andy said using both his hands to emphasize his point. "It was like a scene out of one of those movies where everyone goes nuts!"

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Guess they couldn't stand our awesomeness bro," Andy replied.

_Our?_

"I didn't do anything," Sam said, "That guy-"

"Not that dude," Andy said, "What you did after that."

"After?" Sam asked hesitantly.

Andy turned around and looked at him with a large grin on his face, one hand on the wheel, the other thrown out, up in the air.

"That whoosh thing you did," Andy said waving his hand in front of Sam's face. Sam wanted to tell Andy to keep his eyes on the road, but he wanted to know what exactly he had done that had impressed Andy so much.

"You totally used the force on those people, blew them away like they were nothing," Andy said, finally looking turning back to the road.

Sam took in a sharp breath. No way. He couldn't have done that. He burried the horrible thought and forged on.

"What happened after that?" Sam asked, his mind full of questions and worry. "How did I get here?"

"You seriously don't remember?" Andy asked turning around again.

Sam shook his head.

"Well, I took you here, well not 'here' here, but my van 'here,'" Andy said. "And then you told me you needed to find a guy called Ansem Weems, who happens to be a co worker of mine. I still don't know whow you know me let alone him. I've never seen you here before."

Sam frowned. He didn't remember any of it. Nothing. His mind was blank.

"You were pretty insistent," Andy continued. "So I went back to the dinner, where me and Ansem work, and I almost got kidnapped by this freaky guy who kept saying I had to go with him so I could train my 'powers,'" Andy waved his fingers in the air at the word 'powers', "He that we could _change the world_, something like that anyway."

Sam just stared at the rear view mirror, his mmind trying, but failing to comprhend eveyrthing Andy was telling him.

"I told him no," Andy said filling the silnece and atching Sam's vacant gaze in the mirror. "He didn't like that too much, threatened death to all my loved ones, yada yada yada, you know the deal. I still said no. He still didn't like it. So yeah."

Sam blinked hard and struggled to clear his mind so he could respond.

"What did this guy look like?" Sam asked quietly.

"Oh, I don't know," Andy said. "He was tall, had light brown hair, a leather jacket; Young guy, not someone to mess with."

Sam mouthed an 'oh' before Andy continued his tale. Was it too much to hope that the person Andy had talked to wasn't Dean?

"I tried to leave, but then the whole town came after me. I tried to stop them with my," Andy motioned at his head and waved his hand, "You know, mind mojo, but then they all went crazy. So I ran back to you, saw you were sleeping, hit the gas, and never looked back twice."

Sam raised his eyebrow and frowned. It sounded to crazy to be true.

Seeing his disbelief ithe mirror, Andy replied quickly.

"I'm not lying man," Andy said. "Honest."

Sam thought it over for a few moments before he spoke.

"Where are we going?" Sam finally asked.

"Las Vegas, Nevada," Andy said quickly, satisfaction written all over his face.

Andy looked in the mirror and saw the now seemingly permant look of confusion on Sam's face.

"You're the one who said so," Andy explained. "Right after you got done talking to that hot blond babe."

"What?" Sam asked surprised.

"Yeah dude, how could you forget her?" Andy looked at Sam via the rear view mirror with a raised eyebrow. "She disappeared really quick once she saw I was there, but dam man. She's a looker."

Sam sighed and sat back down. He still was sore, and standing on his knees hadn't helped any. He leaned against the side of the van. Why couldn't he remember? And why did this Andy seem to trust him so much so as to follow his directions, which he apparently gave, to go to Nevada? He wished he could remember just what had happened, but most of all he wished he could be sure it wasn't because of something more sinister.

_Sinister? Me? Well I'm honored,_ a voice sounded in his head.

Sam glanced at Andy who was alternating between watching the road and glancing back at him. He smiled slightly at Andy then looked away.

_What do you want? _Sam thought. It had been a while since he had heard the voice, a few days at least.

_You're the one looking for answers, _the voice replied._ I just thought I'd give you some._

Sam was silent as he waited.

_Well?_ he thought.

_Impatient are we_, the voice echoed. _Well, you needed some time to rest. I just gave it to you._

_Meaning? _Sam thought.

_I took over for a while._

Sam's eyes widened.

"Hey Sam," Andy called from the front.

Sam caught his gaze in the mirror wondering just how Andy knew his name when he was sure he hadn't said naything abut it.

_I thought I'd give him something else to call you other than 'dude'_, the voice echoed in his mind.

Sam ignored teh voice and looked at Andy throught he mirror.

"That guy wanted me to tell you something," Andy explained.

"What guy?" Sam asked, his thoughts were all over the place, he needed a reminder.

"The whole _come with me or die_ guy," Andy said.

Sam nodded uneasily as he remembered.

"Well, in his words, _'Tell my brother Sam that when it's time, he'll know where to find me_,'" Andy said. He started to shake his head. "What a piece of work."

Sam looked away. He should have known hope was useless. So Dean had known he was in the town. But how? And if he was following him, why didn't he try and find him? Why just pass on a message and let him go?

"I'll will give him this though, he has one sweet ride," Andy said whistling. "67 Chevy Impala; classic."

Sam rolled his eyes. Everyone always said that, though not always in such accurate terms. Sighing Sam looked back to the mirror.

"Andy," he said. "Why do you trust me? Why are you helping me?"

Andy stared at Sam like he couldn't understand him.

"Dude, life is an adventure," Andy said. "Go with the flow. As long as I got my van and my bong, i'm good to go."

"But how do you know i'm not evil, that I won't kill you the first time I get the chance?"" Sam continued. "What about my brother?"

"Dude," Andy said looking in the mirror, "Do you want to kill me?"

Sam shook his head.

"No-"

"Then you won't," Andy said.

"That's it?" Sam said. "What if i'm lying?"

"You're not," Andy said assuredly.

"How do you know?" Sam asked.

"Because no one can lie to me," Andy said with a smile.

Sam frowned. Seeing this Andy smiled further.

"It started about a month ago," Andy started. I was in school and Al, big hulking thug he is, was being his usual self toward me, and I told him to go stuff it where the sun don't shine."

Andy started laughing.

"It was the funniest thing I've ever seen," Andy said. "Stuff it where..." he trailed off into another laughing fit. "I didn't even know it was possible to stuff it...anyway, I tried this whole 'do what I say thing' out on some of the teachers and the princpal and bam! I'm a high school graduate not even half way into my senior year. Free pass out of school."

"Ever since then it's been non-stop spring break," Andy said. "I got a sweet ride, all the weed I want, food whenever I want it," Andy said. "I'm set for life."

Sam frowned.

"So you tell people what to do and they do it." Sam stated.

"Mind control all the way," Andy said with a grin, "Ben Kenobi's got nothing on me."

"But back in town-"

"I don't know man," Andy said with a shrug. "That was freaky."

"But it doesn't work sometimes" Sam said.

"It worked on you," Andy said.

"But I don't feel compelled to tell you anything," Sam said shaking his head.

Andy tilted his head.

"After that bus hit you, you told me you didn't hurt that man," Andy stated. "I asked you, you told me."

"Because that was the truth," Sam stated.

"Exactly!" Andy said. "And then when I told you to sleep because you wanted to follow me back to see Ansem, you went right off to lala land."

"You never told me that," Sam said confused. He thought for a moment, then remembered.

"That wasn't me," he said finally. It all made sense. No wonder he couldn't remember; like the voice had said, it had taken over. It was just another part of him after all, if it was to be believed.

It had said that it had taken over to let him rest, but simple rest wasn't supposed to fix broken or at least sprained ankles so quick, or hurt wrists. Did this other side of him have more special powers than simply existing in the first place? Now, what seemed to be just a voice, was an entity capable of taking him over and healing him. He had thought having the voice in the first place was a nightmare, but now it had only grown worse.

He knew he shouldn't even be thinking it, but he couldn't help it.

_Just how much worse could his life get?_


	10. Chapter 10 Smooth criminal

**Chapter 10**

**Smooth Criminal**

_I won't sooth your pain_

_I won't ease your strain..._

_Eyes on fire, Blue Foundation_

* * *

Nothingness stared at him from outside the window, but still he stared back. What had started out like a normal day had turned into the most life changing 24 hours he had ever experienced. He had gone from an abnormally strong and exemplary member of his high school's ROTC program with his sights set on joining the army once he finished the school year and graduated, to being on the run with a bunch of psycho's and a head psycho who supposedly had need of all their special abilities to 'change the world.'

He was all for changing the world, but he never imagined it would be on these terms. The group of kids that were with him in the car were the strangest bunch he had ever seen. There was something off about each one of them. The girl named Ava seemed to be the most sane, but somehow, and he didn't know why, he could tell that that was just a front. Behind her wide innocent looking eyes, he sensed a predator waiting to strike. She was the one he was keeping his eyes on.

The other two, Max and Ansem, were way off kilter as far as he was concerned. Max was almost tiny in comparison to his own muscle bound bulk. He was extremely quite too, only talking to the driver if he had to at all. When he looked into Max's eyes, he saw a caged animal that if pushed into a corner would bare its teeth.

Ansem on the other hand, was just too calm. When he looked at Ansem, he saw a calculating mind that was always thinking, always on alert.

He could only guess what they saw when they all looked at him. Back home he was known as being a sort of gentle giant; a protector of the unprotected. He loved his family very much and was willing to do whatever it took to keep them safe. It was why he willing to join the military; so he could protect them by preventing any sort of harm from coming even remotely close to them.

That's why it was highly ironic that such a pure desire could also move him to take a much different and darker path toward accomplishing that goal.

He had barely left the school grounds on his way home after school, when the black classic car had driven up beside him. The driver, who had called himself Dean, invited him, by name, into the passenger side of the car. He wasn't crazy. He refused immediately, but as he started to walk away, the car had followed, slowly.

_"It's your family Jake," _Dean had said, _"Their in danger."_

Those words had caused him to stop. The moment he responded, it was all over. The man had found his hook and now he was in Dean's car driving across the dusty plains of Texas, or was it New Mexico? They had been driving for hours, he couldn't tell anymore.

After he had stepped into the car, Dean had taken him to a motel on the outskirts of town; one that wasn't exactly known for its quality, and explained to him all sorts of things about his grand destiny and how he was going to play a large role in changing the world and bring about the rise of a great leader to lead them all.

When Dean had opened that motel room door and revealed the other kids inside, his eyes had been opened to a whole new world he could never have fathomed. People who could see the future, move things with their minds, and even control other people. He had wondered why he had been 'recruited' along with these kids, when he didn't have any magnificent powers like they did. He thought of his strength, but that seemed to be physical whereas all these kids powers were mental.

But it turned out that his strength was just as unique and valued as the others. Dean had told him that if they worked together to hone his strength, then no one would be able to stand in his way. And it turned out that by honing, Dean meant drinking blood.

This morning, he had woken to the sight of a beautiful blond woman staring down at him. The other 'special kids' as Dean had called them, were gathered in the small motel room as well. They each were similarly paired up with a member of the opposite sex. Dean was no where in sight and no one but the girl seemed to pay attention to him. The others had quickly became intertwined with their respective pairs and he couldn't quite make out what they were doing. Maybe he didn't want to.

The crazy situation he had woken to had caused him to question and not for the first time, just what he was doing being with this strange group of people and it only got worse when he finally understood what they others were doing.

He had been ready to throw the girl onto the floor when she had started to advance toward him seductively, but her whisper to 'play along' piqued his curiosity and kept him from acting on that thought. But when she pulled out a sharp knife and brought it to her arm, he couldn't resist reaching out to halt her. However, when the girl had given him a quick glance and head tilt toward the others, he let go. Morbid curiousity kept his eyes on her arm as she had drawn the blade across her skin. Then with one last glance behind her, she stood up on her knees, on the bed, effectively hiding his head from their view. It was then that the explanation came in hushed whispers.

They were freaking vampires, drinking the blood of their partners, and he was expected to do the same. But strangely enough, after the girl had told him that, she had not forced him to drink from her. She had merely explained that the blood was supposed to strengthen the abilities he had while tethering him to Dean. She had explained that the blood was addictive, much like any other drug off the streets. What made the blood so special and addictive was that it was demon blood.

The girl was a demon, the other new comers were demons. It had been a lot to take in and more than frightening. To find out that there was another, more darker world out there was more than unsettling. First demons, then werewolves, vampires, and shape shifters. The girl had told him that pretty much every urban legend out there was true.

When he had asked why she was telling him all this and not making him drink, she had answered him with a question.

_"Do you want to kill?"_

Immediately he had shaken his head no.

_"Do you want to come out of this all alive?"_ she had asked.

It was a fear he had not wanted to give rise to, but once it had been spoken aloud, it became much harder to hide.

_"You have no reason to trust me,"_ she had said. _"I am a demon after all, and demons lie, cheat, and steal to get what they want, but know this, If you go along with this group, with...Dean," _She had paused for a moment. _"Then you will be helping to release a great evil into this world and you'll be signing death warrants for millions of people."_

It was her next statement, that had sealed the deal.

_"I can't guaranty your family's safety or that you wont get hurt, but I can tell you that if you work with me, millions of people out there will never have to know of the evil that exists in their world. Do you want your family to live in fear of all of this?"_

That was the last thing he wanted for them, but he needed to be sure he could trust this girl.

_"Why do you care so much?" _he had asked, then clarified. _"This is personal isn't it?"_

She had paused for moment before answering.

_"I'm trying to right a wrong I committed_," She had simply said. _"And it's not only me that's fighting this. There's another one of you, well two actually, who are trying to stop this."_

_"Take me to them then," _he had said.

She had only shook her head.

_"I need you to be here,"_ she said. _"They need you to be here; someone on the inside..."_

Someone on the inside; that was him now. All he knew, was that he needed to wait and be ready, and not give in to his darker side, which the girl said would be all but impossible to turn back from. But most of all, he couldn't give it all away. The girl had done something to him, to his mind, to prevent him from being read psychicly, as she had explained, but he didn't feel any different.

Now, sitting here, in this car, with all the new information he had been given, he only wished that they would get to where they were going faster so that this could be put to a stop sooner and he could get on with his life.

* * *

The window was rolled down and the his hand stuck out into the wind. The breeze was chilly and biting but strangely enough, it was rather comforting. Some 70's disco song was playing on the stereo. Andy looked as happy as ever moving his head in tune to the beats. All in all it was peaceful. Save for the thoughts and worries contained within Sam's mind.

As he watched Andy, he couldn't help but wonder how his life would be different if were more like him. If he were more laid back, accepting and willing to go with whatever path came before him, would he be in his current situation? For Andy, it was as if all the bad simply bounced off him and nothing could get him down. He wished he could be more like that, but wishing and hoping for a new personality wasn't going to get him anywhere. He would just have to settle for simply being around such a happy go lucky person rather than suddenly becoming one.

"Andy, what about your parents?" this was a question he had been wondering about for the past few miles.

"What about them?" Andy said over the loud music.

"Well, you driving off like this, what will they think?" Sam continued.

Andy shrugged his shoulders.

"My dad won't mind, he's cool," Andy answered.

"He is?" Sam said skeptically.

Andy smiled.

"Who do you think I got my bong from?"

Sam shook his head with a smile.

"What about your mom?" Sam asked.

Andy seemed to pause for a moment.

"She's dead," he finally answered. "I never knew her."

The mood in the van suddenly became somber.

"What about your parents?" Andy asked trying to lighten the mood. "I mean, I know about your brother but not them."

Sam shrugged sadly.

"My dad..." he trailed off. "He's out there."

Andy looked at him, obvoulsy curious as to what that meant.

_He thinks i'm the devil incarnate and he wants to iradicate me_, was the thought that went through his mind, but he didn't let that slip from his mouth.

"We're not exactly on good terms," Sam answered and left it at that.

"And your mom?" Andy asked.

"She's dead. I never knew my mom either," Sam replied.

Andy sighed softly.

"Sucks doesn't it?" he said.

Sam nodded.

"It was a fire," Sam said continuing on though Andy hadn't hadn't asked for details. It just was nice to talk to someone for once and have them listen.

"A fire?" Andy asked.

"Yeah," Sam said, "There was a fire in my nursery. My mom died trying to save me."

Andy frowned then turned to Sam.

"Mine too," he said.

Sam looked at him.

The light bulbs were going off in his head at that revelation. It was then he noticed a very familiar looking car pulling up next to them. First his dad and now Dean? How was this even possible?

Beside him, Andy caught his gaze and looked as well. As soon as he realized what had gotten Sam riled up, he froze and pushed himself back into his seat, trying to make himself look smaller. Sam watched them pass, trying, yet not trying at the same time, if that was even possible, to get a glimpse of Dean. But all he could see, was the girl from Illinois and another figure in the seat behind her, slumped over in sleep. As they pulled away, Sam could see the outline of two others, but nothing more. Luck was on their side it seemed as the Impala continued on its way, not making any notice of the van it had just past.

* * *

John sat in his truck, sipping a cup of coffee, parked in a gas station parking lot, looking as gruff and surly as ever. Beside him laying on the passenger side seat was a local newspaper, _The Saginaw News_. On the cover was a picture of a happy looking couple with the bold headline above it _'Parent's found dead, son missing_.' In any other circumstance, he never would have paid any attention it. While tragic, these types of stories rarely were supernatural in nature and this one was no different except for the fact that he knew this one was that one in a million case that was in fact differet.

Upon arriving in town, he had called up some of his contacts to see if they knew of anything strange going on in this part of the nation. He had then picked up a newspaper to see if he could find anything there, demonic omens, that sort of thing. When he had first seen the front page and the picture of the happy looking couple, he had made to turn the page, but a nagging feeling drew him to the picture and its story. It was instinct and his was never wrong. He made a few phone calls, a few inquires to the case, and found out that the missing boy was Sam's age and that his mother had died in a nursery fire just months after he was born. The lady in the picture was the boys stepmom. There were too many coincidences for this to not be the reason why Sam had brought Dean here. And it looked like Sam had taken the boy in and aided in the killing of the boys parents.

As the sun started to set, he could only wonder _why_? What was Sam's end game? First Bobby, then Dean, and now this boy and his parents. What did it all mean?

His pocket started vibrating. He pulled it out and looked at who it was. It was Dean. He quickly put it to his ear.

"Dean?" he asked almost frantically.

"Dad," the voice on the other line answered.

John sighed in relief. Dean was still alive.

"Where are you?" he asked urgently.

"I don't know," Dean said.

Dean was speaking more softly than he had ever known his son to speak. It was as if Dean was afraid to speak, afraid he would be found out.

"Sam doesn't know you're calling me does he?" he asked.

For a few moments all he could hear was dean's breathing. Then,

"No," Dean answered. "Sam isn't here anymore."

John frowned.

"Where is he then?" he asked.

Dean didn't speak for a few moments.

"He's going to get another special kid," Dean answered in a sudden rush. "He left me with the others."

"The others?" John asked.

"The the other special kids," Dean replied.

"Special kids?" John said.

"Like Sam," Dean answered. "Their like Sam, the yellow eyed demon, he..." Dean trailed off.

"Dean," John said, "The yellow eyed demon what?"

Dean took a few breaths before continuing.

"He fed them all his blood," Dean answered. "He fed Sam. And Sam is gathering them all up."

"But why?" John asked. this was everything he needed to know.

"I don't know," Dean answered to the frustration of John. "He just keeps telling them, that they will change the world."

This got John fuming.

"Has he hurt you?" John asked.

Dean answered quickly.

"Not physically," he said.

"Meaning?" John asked.

Dean didn't answer.

"You still there Dean?" John said.

"Y-yes," Dean said shakily. "I should go. they don't know I have this phone."

"Think hard Dean," John said quickly. "Where did Sam go?"

Seconds passed and if not for the sounds of Dean's breathing, he would of thunk dean had hung up.

"Nevada," Dean finally answered. "Las Vegas. He's looking for some kid named Scott Corry, Currie, Carey...Carey, Scott Carey, that's the kid."

The line went dead.

"Dean!" John shouted, but to no avail. There were no sounds on the other end.

Even more determined than before, John put his key in the ignition and turned it. The truck was roaring out of the parking lot so suddenly that anyone watching could only blink and the truck was gone as if it had only been a figment of their imagination.

* * *

Dean wanted to scream, he wanted to hit something, kill something even, he was that angry. The...demon, he thought out the word like a curse, had called John and told him so many lies that if it were Pinocchio its nose would wrap across the world by now. Now his 'hell bent on killing Sammy' dad was headed in Sam's direction looking to spill blood; Sam's blood. Not only that, but he thought that Sam was the one with the conniving plan to gather up all the psychic wonder kids so they could "change the world" whatever that meant.

There had to be some way he could stop this, some way he could warn Sam. There had to be something he could do than just sit here like a helpless damsel in distress. He thought of how Sam had come to him in his dreams. Sam had mentioned a bond that they shared. Maybe it went both ways.

Who was he kidding. He wasn't psychic like Sam. How could he expect to be able to access that bond in the same way? Thinking about two way streets though touch off a whole new idea. If the demon could hear and talk to him and access his memories and thoughts, shouldn't he be able to do the same with the demon? He already could see everything the demon said and did, well most of the time, but never the less, what if?

It certainly something more to cling to than doing nothing.

* * *

He honestly couldn't explain why he was doing what he was doingo rhwy hewas with the persn he was with epect that he was. He barely even knew the basics about Sam, where he came from or how he had ended up on that street back in Guthrie. All he really knew was that Sam had a brother that was up to no good, a M.I.A. dad, and a mom that had died just like his own mom.

That alone would be reason enough for any sane person to get as far away from Sam as they could, but not him. But then again, he wasn't exactly the most sanest person out there. In fact, he was actually running head long into something that was most likely way above his head and had the potential to get himself hurt along the way.

Yet even with the unkown danger surrounding him, he had to smile. It was an adventure and what adventure didn't have its share of dangers? It wouldn't be an adventure otherwise. It was all so exciting, though no doubt he knew he could find himself wishing for such a boring exsistance agin, he would enjoy this while it lasted. Overall, his life had gotten rather boring. When you had the power to make people do what ever you wanted and give you whatever you wanted, life lost its challenge. Where was the fun in that? Sure, he could cause all sorts of mischeif and even harm if he wanted to, but what was the point of that? He didn't find other peoples sorrow particulary interesting or enjoyable at all.

That was porbably one of the reasons he had taken to Sam so quickly without even knowing a single fact about him save for the fact that Sam had tried to save that man from taking his own life. Sam just excuded sadness and that was proven true when he had started talking about how his father wanted his blood and his brother had beat him before leaving him for dead in the middle of nowhere. He hadn't told Sam about his ramblings after they had escaped the crowd seeing as Sam either didn't remember saying those words or was too embarassed about saying them. He voted for the prior. Sam had been pretty out of it after the gang beating, as he was calling it. It was quite amazing actually that Sam was as well off as he seemed to be now because he had thought for sure that Sam needed the hospital. Either Sam's special abilities included healing himself or he wasn't as hurt as he looked. Once again he voted for the prior. Sam had barely been able to walk, now he didn't seem to have any trouble at all staying on his own two feet. The bruises he was sure would show themselves within hours had never materialized.

That only went to show that here was so much more to Sam than met the eye.

When it came to himself though, what you saw was what you got. He didn't have any hidden motives or far reaching dreams. He was rather simple in his wants and needs and he owed it all to his dad. He had grown up, just him and his dad and his dad was quite the character or rather free spirit. The 70's had come and gone, but you culdn't tell that by watching his dad. His style and attitude were so psychadelic it would make you forget the current year and take you back to the 70's even if you had never been there in the first place.

He would've liked to think that his dad was stuck in the 70's becasue they were just too cool to let go, which was truth as far as he was concerned, but he knew it was much deeper than that. When his mom had died his father had reverted to happier times which were the 70's for him. To move on from then would be accepting his mom's death and his dad just didn't seem to be able to do that. That's why his dad had burried himself in the bell bottom wearing, free loving, getting high vibe of the 70's. In the resulting haze he wouldn't be able to dwell on his sorrows. While sad, it was his dad's way of staying somewhat sane and coping without actually acknowedgeing his mom's death. His dad had found what worked for him and stuck with it and it had worked.

He knew with anyother person, that his whole childhood could've been drastically different. He thought of Sam and even if he didn't know the whole story, he did know that their lives had at least started out in the same horrific maner. Obviously, Sam's dad had taken his wife's death very hard and coped in his own way. He could only guess how that had gone down with two kids to take care of at the same time. It obviously hadn't turned out well seeing as Sam's dad was out to kill his own son. He couldn't imagine having deal with what Sam was dealing with. Looking at Sam and how different they both were, he counted himself extremely lucky. Growing up, he had everything he ever need and he loved his dad dearly. He wouldn't have it any other way. After all, what other dad would actually teach his own son the finer points of smoking weed and using bongs? Or share endless years of expierience with the fairer sex?

For all his flaws and unorthodox coping methods he was an awesome dad. And he could tell, by the way Sam talked about his own dad, that Sam felt the same way about his own dad. It wasn't in the words he used becasue '_my father wants to kill me' _didn't exactly say '_I love my father_,' but it was the disapointment in his eyes when he said those words that told Andy just how much Sam still loved his father. Though, for the life of him he couldn't figure out why Sam still loved the man if he was as horrible as he seemed to be. All he could do was be there for Sam which was strange seeing as he had barely known the kid for few days, but already Sam felt like the best friend he had been missing all these years. He couldn't understand why someone would be so hell bent on killing Sam. From what he could see, Sam had a good heart and a desire to save poeple. If that was bad, then he didn't want to be good.

Whatever Sam was seeking, he would do his best to help him cause that what friends did right? No matter how old or new the friendship.

* * *

Andy pulled to stop and turned off the van. then with a mischevious glance at Sam, he got out of the van and made his way across the parking lot and into the convience store to 'pay' for their gas. Sam watched him for a few seconds before getting out himself.

He tested his foot carefully and found that, like his arm, it was just as good as it ever was before the bus decided to make its aquantance with his body. The only soreness he felt was from being cooped up in the van for so long and while he still felt a little off overall, he didn't feel nearly as bad as he would have thought he would after it all. For all intents and purposed he was as good as new, even better than before the bus had hit him. And that was saying a lot since from what he could remember he had been feeling more and more like death warmed over ever since Dean had left him on the side of that dusty road all those days before. If he were optimistic he would be thanking is lucky stars for having another side of himself that was capable of healing him. But he was not the optimistc sort. Not anymore.

He shook his head.

It was all together too strange to even consider, even with all of his knowledge of the supernatural that a voice in his head could take over for while and heal him. It was just wrong. And if it was wrong, and wrong was bad and you were talking about something involving the supernatural, his fmaily killed it. His father was evidence of that where he was concerned. It seemed that there was once again a valid reason to kill him.

How was he going to fix this?


	11. Chapter 11 I'm in here

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

**I'm in here**

_I hear you breathing in, _

_another day begins._

_The stars are falling out,_

_My dreams are fading out..._

_Your love is a song, Switchfoot

* * *

_

Another day, another load on his shoulders.

They were in St. George, Utah shacked up at a so-so motel next to the highway. Just hours away was another kid just like him, just like Andy. Hopefully by day's end they would be able to convince him to...what? Come with them? Just up and abandon his family and friends? Just what would they be asking of this kid when they found him?

Sam sat outside the motel on the curb just outside their room door. Andy's van was to his left. The space in front of him was void of a vehicle. On the other side of the parking lot, there was nothing but a fence that separated him from the off ramp from the highway. The orange sun was rising, painting the sky with vivd color. The only sounds he could hear were from the cars passing on the highway. The city was still quiet. Other people were probably just waking up right now, if not for an hour at least, yet he had been up for most of the night. Sleep just wouldn't come.

Inside their room, Andy still slept. Andy had been the one to get the room last night. He had not really cared one way or another, but Andy had insisted, saying that the van was only good for so long and especially for someone as tall as Sam.

He thought back to what they had talked about last night before Andy had nodded off and Sam had resigned himself to a sleepless night.

_"Andy," Sam said. "Tell me to...I don't know, do the hokey pokey or something."_

_Ever since they had left Guthrie, he had had a sneaking suspicion that begged to be answered._

_"What?" Andy said from his spot on his bed. "Why?"_

_Sam shrugged._

_"Just do it," he said._

_Andy looked at him sideways, shook his head at him and then sat up. He made eye contact with Sam. _

_"Sam," Andy said, "Do the hokey pokey."_

_Sam just sat there._

_Andy frowned._

_"Do the hokey pokey," he repeated._

_Nothing. Andy stood up and walked toward him until he was just inches from his face._

_"Sam," he said, his voice forceful, "_Do_ the hokey pokey."_

_Sam made a quick hmmm sound._

_"What?" Andy asked not moving._

_"If someone were listening to this, they would think you were nuts," Sam said simply._

_Andy smirked, turned around and sat on his bed across from Sam. _

_"So you were right," Andy stated._

_Sam shrugged._

_"You still want me around?" he asked._

_Andy frowned at him._

_"Of course," he replied. "You haven't tried to kill me yet and you've been with me almost a week."_

_Sam smirked._

_"What if i'm waiting for the perfect time?" he asked._

_Andy smiled knowingly._

_"Then I'll just have to pray that time never comes." he said._

_Sam sighed and looked away. He didn't deserve to have such a trusting friend._

_"I thought," Andy paused._

_Sam looked back at him._

_"I was sure I could control you," Andy finished. "When we got away from the crowd, you did everything I told you."_

_Sam shook his head._

_"No, I mean it," Andy said. "You got that look in your eyes that everyone else does."_

_Still Sam shook his head._

_"That wasn't me," he explained._

_Andy raised an eyebrow._

_"Seriously? Cause you looked the same then as you do now," he remarked._

_Sam sighed._

_"It was me, but it wasn't me," Sam said. He pointed at his head. "I'm not exactly alone in here."_

_Andy frowned._

_"You mean like multiple personalities?" he asked._

_Sam shrugged._

_"Something like that," he said. "I went where I shouldn't have and my mind paid the price."_

_Andy seemed to think for a moment._

_"That's pretty deep man," Andy said. Then he smiled. "So how many of you are in there? Two? Three? Four?"_

_Sam couldn't help but smile just a little._

_"Just the one as far as I know," his thoughts turned serious. "If that side of me comes out, you control me ok?" _

_Andy shrugged as if to question why._

_"That other you seems like a lightweight, if that was him back there in Guthrie," Andy said._

_"Trust me, he is no lightweight," Sam said sternly._

_Andy seemed taken aback by his tone, but just a moment later he was smiling again._

_"Sure thing bro," _

With that little comment, a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He had found someone, who was so willing to accept him for who he was, who didn't want him to be something he wasn't, and who didn't expect anything from him. And while the world was still crashing around him, it wasn't as bad as before because now he had a friend who had his back.

What would come would come, but for now he would sit and enjoy the peace and quiet.

* * *

The bright morning light shinned through his windshield at just the right angle to nearly blind him. It was both a curse and a blessing. A curse because it was making his eyes water and his headache worse, a blessing because it was keeping him awake. He had all but driven straight from Michigan to Nevada without getting so much as an hour of sleep. It shouldn't have been possible, but determination drove him on even when his body protested. He had to get to that kid before Sam did.

But it wasn't because he cared about the kid. Absolutely not. In fact, becasue Sam was showing interest in him, that gave the kid a death warrant in his eyes. He was just another evil that woulld need to be taken out, but only after he finished with Sam. He had a single goal in mind: to end Sam. What Sam was, was no longer the boy he had raised. Sam was gone and this...person, who had taken him over had to die.

He looked at the back of his hand. Sloppy writing zig-zagged across it. It was an address, Scott Carey's address. Soon he would be there and soon this would all be over.

* * *

_Hello San Diego._

Even in mid winter, the place was a balmy 70 degrees. Palm trees surrounded them at every turn. If not for the mission at hand, it would have been so relaxing to stay here for a while and have some fun, or in other words, have a good time. But there would be plenty of time for that later if their mission was successful which it would be. There was no doubt about that.

The particular reason that they were here instead of elsewhere was because of a girl. This girl had the ability to stop a heart just through touch. No doubt she thought it a curse, but soon she would see otherwise.

A look in the rear view mirror, brought a smile to her face. The three children in the back were sitting with stony looks on there faces, obviously displeased with their seating arrangements. However wide and spacious the seats of the Impala were, being in such close quarters with strangers was not something they were used to judging from the looks on their faces.

It was just as well. She didn't want them too be chummy with each other. For everything to work just right, there needed to be a certain level of distrust and competition among them all that drove them to out do one another. But not enough to make them kill each other. That had been Azazel's plan; to let them fight each other until only one was left standing. But the way she saw it, why waste all that effort in creating them in the first place if all you were going to get was one powerful child? Why not gather and use them all? Sure there was probably one that was better than the rest and would be better able to lead, but the others surely had their own way of being useful.

Obviously, Azazel hadn't gotten that far with his plan of letting them kill each other to see who was the strongest. He had been fixated on one Samuel Winchester, convinced that Sam was the one. But all that certainty had only gotten him killed which was good thing, for her at least. Now she would be the one that would bring about rise of her master and receive all of the credit. If it weren't for Sam she would never be in this position, he had freed her when he had opened the gates of hell in that cemetery, so she supposed she owed him a lot.

That was why little Sammy was running free right now. She would let him have his freedom for a little while, but that was all he would get from her. Soon she would wrangle him up and milk him for all he and his family were worth before putting him out of his misery and going on her own merry little way.

She knew where Sam was, always, it was a benefit of her current vessel. Their bond as brothers was the strongest she had seen in a long while and thus very useful when it came to Sam. When it came to thoughts though, Sam was a mystery to her. The other special children were open books to her, but not Sam. It was annoying as hell, but not together detrimental to her plans. She didn't need to know what he was thinking when he displayed every emotion he held within himself so openly on his face.

In regards to location, dearest Sammy was making his way toward the Carey kids house. Very soon he would be running into a very irate and hot headed papa Winchester. She almost wished she could be there to watch it all go down, but as fun as entertaining as that would be, she had to think of the future and with that in mind, what they were doing here was more important.

No matter how dull it was.

* * *

_It was night. The sky was black. No stars shone, at least from his view. The darkness pressed down on him, weighing him down, almost suffocating him. Evil was here and it wanted him. _

_Once again, he hurt. His head, his leg, his side, it all hurt, but it wasn't slowing him down. He had something to do, people to save...his family needed him, even if they didn't seem to feel that way. He peered around the building and down the street beyond. Only one light shown. It was at the end of the street in front of what looked like a small church right out of a western movie. That was where he needed to be and the sooner the better. _

_Quietly he took a step forward but found himself suddenly yanked backwards and pressed into a wall, the wind knocked out of him. _

He opened his eyes. Andy's hand was on his shoulder and was shaking him.

"You ok?" Andy asked with a frown. "You drifted off there..."

Sam looked around at the scenery. They weren't far from the city. The desert lining both side of the highway was slowly filling up with the signs of civilization.

"How long was I out?" Sam asked.

Andy shrugged.

"Not long," he replied.

There was silence fro a few moments.

"You were dreaming," Andy stated.

Sam sighed.

"It was nothing," he said.

Andy turned and looked at him.

"A night with no stars," he said iridiculously. "You call that nothing?"

Sam frowned in sudden confusion.

"How do you know that?" he asked wearily.

"You were hurt," Andy continued. "It was so dark, so...suffocating. I had to wake you up."

"How do you know?" Sam asked more forcefully.

Andy shrugged.

"I saw it," he explained. "You were, I don't know, projecting or something."

_You're like a radio station Sammy. What will we tune into next time?_

Sam let out a frustrated sigh and turned away. He did not need that voice now, or ever.

"It's not my fault," Andy said quickly, misinterpreting Sam's frustration as being aimed at him. "I didn't do it on purpose, I promise."

Sam shook his head sadly.

"It's not you," he explained. "I'm not mad at you."

_You should be. We were just getting to the good part when he shook you all up._

Sam closed his eyes and willed the voice to shut up.

_Hey, I'm feeling chatty. You two psychic wunderkinds playing off of each other has got me all sorts of interested._

_What do you want?_, Sam thought back.

The voice paused. If it were corporeal, Sam had the feeling it would be smiling evilly.

_Just seeing how things are going in Sammy land._

_How kind of you,_ Sam snarked back. A headache was building behind his eyes.

_It really is isn't it?_

Sam rolled his eyes and leaned against the window, the side of his head touching the cool glass of the window.

_I have to say, your mind is one crazy mine of possibilities waiting to be dug up, yet you just sit there and let it all go...wasted._

Sam ignored the voice.

_I mean, what use is gold when it stays in the dirt undiscovered?_

_Better that than being used and taken advantage of_, Sam replied.

_Well Sammy boy, if you weren't so dam easy to manipulate, than that wouldn't be a problem. _

Sam raised his eyebrows at the attitude displayed in that statement.

_Tough love baby,_ the voice said.

"Sam?" Andy asked. "Are you with me?"

Sam sat up straighter.

"Yeah, Yeah I am," he said. "I was just...hearing things."

Andy raised an eyebrow.

"Whatever man," he said. "Shouldn't be much longer."

And it wasn't. Not an hour later they were sitting in the van across the street from the house where Scott Carey lived. It had taken a few tries but eventually Andy had been able to find someone who knew their way around Las Vegas and who could show them where to go, all thanks to Andy's special brand of persuasiveness.

If Sam looked hard enough in the rear view mirror, he could still see the man they had '_commandeered'_, wandering confused down the road away from them. A part of him felt bad about what they had done, but they weren't harming the man in any way save for the time taken from him and the confusion they had imposed upon him, so Sam hadn't fought against it too much.

Sure, they could have found it on their own, but this was much faster and time was something they didn't have a lot of; Sam could feel it.

"Now what?" Andy asked.

Sam looked at the simple single story house. The late afternoon sun bathed the house in light. There were no cars in front. The lawn was neat, the frontporch clean. He sighed.

"We...go in?" Sam said finally with a shrug of his shoulders.

Andy raised an eyebrow.

"That's it?" he asked. "What if this is a trap?"

Sam tilted his head acknowledging his point.

"What if your brother is in there and waiting for us?" Andy asked.

Sam only answered by opening his door and getting out.

"Wait man!" Andy said as he rushed to follow. "Not to sound like a nerd or anything but I really have a bad feeling about this."

Sam stopped for a moment and turned to Andy with a small smile on his face.

"If you didn't I'd be worried," he replied.

That didn't seem to put Andy at ease.

"Hello," Andy said, "We're super freaky as it is, maybe we should listen to these feelings."

"If we do then this will never be over," Sam said walking forward again.

"So you're suicidal," Andy accused following him.

Sam shrugged.

"I'm not looking to die," he answered. "At least not today."

Andy threw his hands in the air.

"That's just great."

Sam smiled a little, but then sobered up once more.

"My brother wanted you right?" Sam said. Andy nodded. "Well he seems to want this kid too."

They had crossed the street now and were just feet from the front door.

"It can't be good thing," Sam said finally.

"None of this is," Andy said looking down.

"Whatever you do, stay alert ok?" Sam said turning to the door.

Andy nodded, then took a deep breath.

"One whiff of this thing going south and I'll go all Darth Vader on this place," he said with determination.

Sam could feel his heart beating against his chest as he raised a hand to knock on the door.

_Prepare yourself Sammy boy, the voice said suddenly. This is going to be quite the show._

Sam closed his eyes as he knocked three times, trying not to let those words take away what resolve he had. He had barely brought his hand away from the door before it opened a sliver.

"Go away," the person on the other side whispered.

"Scott?" Sam asked. "Scott Carey?"

There was silence on the other side. Sam couldn't see anything beyond the door.

"We just want to talk to you," Sam said trying to sound as disarming as he could.

"No you don't," another whisper came. "I have company."

Sam narrowed his eyes.

"Just leave me alone," Scott, at least that's who Sam hoped he was, whispered. "I don't want any part of this."

"We just want to help," Sam said quickly as the door began to close.

The door paused for a second almost all but shut, but not quite. Sam could hear another voice shouting out from deeper within the house, but he couldn't make out what was being said.

"Scott?" Sam called out but there was silence. He looked to Andy who shrugged uneasily. A minute passed and then another.

"Scott?" Sam called again.

Nothing.

Sam looked at Andy one last time before pushing the door open slowly.

Sam stepped in wearily, Andy, althouhg extremely reluctant, right behind him. They found themselves in a small living room. Gray walls surrounded them and dark carpet lay beneath them. The inside of the house was not well it; the only light coming in from behind the shades of the windows. The furniture in the room consisted of one lonely dark leather couch, an end table with a nondescript lamp on it, a small coffee table in front and TV in the corner. Two generic landscapes hung on opposite sides of the room. All in all, the area had the feel of a doctors waiting room.

At the far end of the room were two perpendicular hallways. One lead to darkness, the other to a dim light. All was silent. Sam heart beat hard against his chest.

_Bet you wish you had a gun about now eh, Sammy boy?_

Sam ignored the voice. He had decided that bringing weapons into this meeting would not send the right message to Scott, but that did not stop him from agreeing with the voice. He would never admit that though.

_Stubborn to the end. I've always liked that about you._

Sam frowned at that. Those words just sounded so...strange; like the voice was from another person looking in, not someone looking out; however lacking that explanation was. He shook his head and moved forward.

Beside him, Andy followed. He could tell Andy was not liking this one bit, but still Andy was there next to him. It was a testament to him of how much Andy trusted him and his judgment, even in the face of the unknown. He vowed then and there that he would make sure Andy got out of this whole thing alive, no matter what he had to do to make it so.

_Abruptly, the world around himself changed He was now standing in a much darker place, so dark, that he couldn't tell where he was. Andy wasn't anywhere he could see or feel. Behind someone cursed loudly. It was a familiar voice._

_"Dean," Sam whispered. He searched the blackness that surrounded him for Dean, but couldn't not make out a thing._

_"I see you," Dean said, sounding not at all like himself._

When Sam opened his eyes the next moment, he was back in the house, though he was now in the hallway. He looked around himself in confusion. Andy was right beside him. As soon as he saw the confusion on his face, Andy raised his eyebrows as if to ask him what was up.

Sam frowned then looked away from Andy. There was no going back now. they had come this far hadn't they? He took another step.

The hallway opened up into a small kitchen. Once again, the only light visible came from between the shades of the window at the far end of the kitchen.

Sam had barely processed the thought before his whole being exploded into a world of pain and he was falling to the ground.

"I told you to leave," Scott said standing over him, trying to look menacing, but only looking half terrified himself.

Twitching slightly, Sam took in deep breaths as Scott lowered his hand and the energy coming from it ceased. Sam looked for Andy only to see him in the arms of someone that was both far and never far from his mind.

"You move, I shot him," John said, his one arm across Andy's neck holding the boy close to his chest, the other, holding a gun to Andy's head. There was no trace of kindness in his father's eyes and certainly no fatherly love directed toward where he lay on the kitchen floor.

Sam swallowed hard and pushed himself up into a sitting position with shaking arms. He looked wearily at Scott before looking at John.

"Let them go," Sam said finally. "They have nothing to do with this, its me you want."

John started shaking his head as his lips broke into an insane smile.

"On the contrary," he said.

But whatever was going to come out of his mouth next were stopped by an invisible force. His mouth tongue tied, his eyes looking frantically about, John raised the gun from Andy's head to his own.

When understanding dawned on Sam he cried out.

"Andy no!"

Next to him, Scott reacted, sending a steady stream of bright electricity toward Andy and John.

Distracted by the energy now flowing to him, Andy lost control of John and crumpled into a heap on the floor as John pushed him away forcefully. After what seemed like forever, Scott stopped, leaving Andy and jerking mess on the floor in front of Sam.

All he could see was red. Why did he have to say anything at all?

_You masochistic fool_, the voice in his head sounded. _You still love that pigheaded excuse for a father. Tell me this, is he worth more than your little friend?_

Sam frowned, his mind thinking of the many paths this situation could follow while weighing the amount of risk he was willing to take. No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't work out a plan that would end with all of them making it out of this alive. Andy didn't look like he was capable of doing anything at the moment, even though they both had been electrified. He himself was fine, though still hurting. He could still think at least and so it was his responsibility to get them out of this.

He thought back to his time in Guthrie and how the voice in his head had taken over when things had gotten to be too much for his body to take. It had gotten them out of that situation and away from that place. Who knew what would have happened if it hadn't of taken over. Yet he still didn't trust it completely. He put the memory in the back of his mind.

"I want you to take me to Dean," John said, his gun pointed down at Andy's prone form.

Sam frowned.

"I can't," he answered honestly. "I don't know where he is."

"Not according to Dean."

To the side, Scott stood frozen glancing between him and John.

"If you know that, then shouldn't you already know?" Sam shot back, his mouth reacting faster than his brain could combat.

John only answered by kicking Andy viciously, eliciting a moan.

"You want to talk back more?" John said in a challenging tone. "I'm sure your evil little buddy here would love to become more acquainted with my feet, my fists, or maybe even my gun."

Never had Sam hated the man before him than at that moment.

"Look," Sam said. "I don't have any idea where Dean is."

John cocked his gun and aimed for Andy's arm.

"Oh really?" John said threateningly.

There were so many things Sam wanted to say; how it was Dean who was the one they needed to watch out for, not him, how Dean had left him at the side of the road, how Dean seemed to be collecting kids with powers like his for some unknown purpose that couldn't possibly be good. But he kept his mouth shut. Reason was something his dad had not seen nor acknowledged in months.

He frowned.

That thought about Dean collecting kids like Andy and Scott...he had never worded it that way before in his mind, but now everything made so much more sense.

"You're so blinded," Sam said sending daggers at John. "You only see what you want to see and right now you don't see me. You only see evil, but that's not me."

"It never was."

John smirked.

"Wrong," he said. "You always were evil, I just didn't want to see it. And now i'm going to take care of you and all your special friends. Dean told me everything."

Sam shook his head.

"And you believed him," Sam stated.

Frustrated, John pointed the gun at Sam.

"If you wont tell me, then you are no good to me."

Sam narrowed his eyes. He wasn't going down this easy. It probably was a foolish idea born out of desperation, but it was something, and that was all he had.

He quickly reached out toward Scott and grabbed at his legs effectively bringing the teen down, then pushed himself up and charged John who had started shooting. Pain assaulted him, but he didn't acknowledge it. Wrapping his arms around John as if to hug him, he twisted around right as Scott started to send lighting their way.

John yelled out in pain theboth oftehm falling to the floor, and struggled to get out of Sam's grasp. While the electricity was primarily hitting John, Sam was feeling it too. Abruptly, the flow stopped. From his view beneath John, Sam could see Scott looking at them with wide eyes.

"You idiot," John mumbled as he finally overcame Sam's waning strength and pushed himself away weakly. "The whole group of you...freaks...are evil little bastards."

Scott looked torn.

Sam could only lay there twitching slightly as the pain slowly became more than he could ignore. Looking at the ceiling and trying to control the pain, Sam needed to know this was all worth it, that Andy was still alive, and that he would at least make it out of this. An idea came to him.

'All that potential', the voice had told him. _What if...?_

_Andy_, he called out in his head. _Are you ok?_

He waited for a moment.

Nothing.

Sam sighed. It was a stupid idea.

"You have one last chance to tell me where Dean is before I kill you and your side kick," John said, suddenly standing above him, holding a gun pointed straight at his face. He was facing his death head on..._again_.

He supposed he could just agree with his dad and pretend that he did know where Dean was, if only to buy them some time to come up with a better plan, but wouldn't that just be posponing the inevitable anyway? His brain was fried. No miraculus plans were on the horizon. What good would prolonging it all do?

Then, taking him away from his current threat of thought, just like a few minents ago, everything around him was different..yet ironically still the same.

_He was still on the ground, and his dad still had his gun, the same one in fact, pointed at his face, but they were now outside in a place he had never seen before. All was dark around him. As he assessed his surroundings. In the not too far distance he could see a person who looked just like Dean. But it couldn't be. He could feel that something was off even with the distance bewteen them._

_Just where was he?_

_His dad seemed to realize that his eyes were somewhere else. Following his gaze, he saw that another person was rushing over to join them. He turned back to Sam._

_"Let's see you tell Dean to his face that he's not right in the head," he said viciously._

_So that _was_ Dean or at least who his dad thought was Dean._

Just as before, he opened his eyes to the scene in the kitchen, gun still pointed at his face. Sam sighed. He was so tired. What was in his head and what was reality were blurring together and makinghis head ache. Oblivion beckoned to him. The hopelessness and confusion of it all begged him to let go. But there were also words that pleaded with him to be said, words that he needed to say before he could leave this place.

"I'm your son," Sam said softly. "Doesn't that count for anything?"

John rolled his eyes.

"You're not my son," Johns said, "You never really were."

Sam closed his eyes.

"Then shoot me," he said calmly.

Imediatly, he heard the gun cock.

_Don't_, a voice sounded in his head. _I'm here Sam._

Andy. He was still there. His stupid idea had worked! But he had made up his mind. He wasn't stopping now.

_I'm doing this for you_, Sam thought back. _Remember what I told you._

Then everything faded away.


	12. Chapter 12 Start a fire

**Here's an extra long chapter for you all, enjoy! Only about 5 chapters to go...**

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* * *

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Chapter 12

Start a fire

_It's getting dark_

_and it's all too quiet._

_I can't trust anything now..._

_Haunted, Taylor Swift_

* * *

John frowned as he saw Sam's eyes slowly close and his body go lax. For a moment he contemplated just leaving with Sam and finding someplace private, where no one could hear the screams, to torture the information he wanted out of him. He didn't believe for one moment that Sam was as ignorant as he was claiming about Dean's where abouts. But at the same time, the thought of how gratifying it would be to just end it all now with one bullet, or even two, sounded just as appealing, even more-so. Precautions would have to be taken of course. He had thought Sam dead before and they had all paid for his overconfidence so he wasn't going to make any mistakes this time. It would be like beating a dead horse, but he had to be sure. Sam would not be rising miraculously from the dead this time.

So torture then killing, or just straight to the killing?

He went through all the possibilities that each scenario could result in. One thing that was certain was how stubborn Sam could be. With that in mind, torturing him would probably lead to nothing but more chances for Sam to find an opening he could take an advantage of. He couldn't allow that.

Mind made up he raised the gun.

"You're not really gonna shoot him are you?" a timid voice from behind sounded.

John smirked.

"You don't even know all the people he has killed, the lives he's ruined," he replied.

"But he's your son right?" Scott asked.

John turned around frustratedly.

"You've been on the fence this whole time," John said. "And I'm sick of it."

He raised his gun and fired a shot before Scott could react hitting the boy in the shoulder. Scott sagged against the wall, his hand rushing up to cover the wound.

"You said you wouldn't hurt me," the boy said through gritted teeth.

John smiled and let out a hallow laugh.

"I lied."

He turned back to Sam and pulled the trigger.

But the shot went off course as the gun was ripped from his grasp and thrown to the other side of the room. Then electricity shot toward him and he was on the ground before he could blink. These kids with their unnatural powers were a real thorn in his side. He turned onto his back, grabbed his spare gun from his waistband and started firing toward where Scott was.

He was answered with random bursts of energy with various levels of intensity. He could tell he had hurt Scott enough to affect his freaky abilities, though the electricity still hurt like hell.

**STOP**

He froze. All his thoughts disappeared, and his hands fell to the ground beside him, useless. He head fell back to the ground and all he could see was the ceiling.

"You okay Scott?" a voice called out in the resulting silence. It must have been the other kid that had come with Sam. It was a voice he hadn't heard before.

"I'm...alive," came the answer.

Then another new voice joined the conversation.

"What have we here," it said. The voice sounded more than familiar but the inflection was all wrong.

He tried to move but found he was as frozen as ever. His view of the ceiling was suddenly interrupted by a new sight. His eyes widened as he realized it was Sam, standing right above him. The gun shots and residual tremors didn't seem to be affecting him at all. The look on the boy's face was anything but the look he had grown used to over the years. It was Sam but at the same time, it wasn't.

"I said this would a great show and boy did you guys deliver Sam said with a tilt of his head. "And its not over yet."

Sam disappeared from view, but his voice still could be heard.

"It my turn now, time for my part in this little production," he heard Sam say. "Let him go Andy."

There was no objection. One moment he couldn't move, the next he was back in control. He sat up. The three other occupants of the room were now standing, although a bit unsteadily and slightly slumping in Scott's case, in front of the window all glaring back at him heatedly. Sam stood tall and proud, even though he was bleeding in several spots and was extremely pale. He looked anything but pained even though his body showed obvious sources of injury. It was unsettling to say the least.

"John, you surprise me," Sam said. "You would treat your own blood like...vermin."

Sam took a step toward him.

"For someone who is so stalwart on doing anything for blood...for family, you are severely lacking."

John looked around himself for a gun, but found nothing.

"You would torture your own son," Sam said.

John's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I heard that revolting thought. I mean, torture is not revolting, don't get me wrong, quite the opposite actually, but morally speaking," Sam smirked, "if I had any morals and I were a heaven worshiping type of person...the idea of hurting my own son would be horrendous."

The sound of a gun cocking drew John's attention to the source: Sam's hand.

"Now I happen to like Sam a lot," Sam said causing John to frown. Why would Sam refer to himself in the third person? "And your constant shooting at him puts us in jeopardy of that little thing called death."

He tried to speak, but found his voice had taken a vacation. All he could do was move his lips.

"I already know what you're going to say," Sam said now standing right above him once more, gun in hand. "I don't want to hear it."

Sam continued on his out-of-character rant.

"I'm all for revenge and killing and all that nonsense," Sam said. "But only when I'm not the object of your desire."

Sam smiled, but it wasn't the smile he was used to. Since his voice was all but useless, he slowly moved his hand toward his back. An idea had popped into his head, albeit reluctantly, and, for Mary's sake, he had to be sure.

"You are so wrong, it's almost sad...tragic even," Sam said. "I wonder what you will do when you find out just how horrendously wrong you were."

"Now that...will be an amazing show," Sam said with a twisted smile. "With an overdose of angsty goodness."

Figuring there was no really good time to act, but that he had to do something, John pulled out his flask of holy water, popped it open, and prepared to fling it at Sam.

But he was stopped just as quickly as he had begun to act.

_Those blasted freaks!_

Sam turned back toward the other two kids.

"No, let him do what he wants," Sam said. He turned back to John. "I'm curious."

He frowned, cautious at the sudden approval of his actions. But a moment later his need to prove that Sam was an abomination drove him to fling the water after all.

"Ah," Sam said when the water hit the skin of his arm. "Doesn't hurt a bit."

While it didn't seem to be hurting Sam, it still left a rising steam where it had hit. He had never seen a reaction like that. It didn't do anything to reassure him either way on Sam's demonic status.

Before he had thrown the water, there had been the briefest of hopes, smaller than a pinprick, that maybe, just maybe, Sam was possessed. But with the rising steam from Sam's arm, that tiny little ray of hope had winked out so fast, it was almost as if it hadn't been there in the first place.

_He was right!_

Always had been always would be. All this nonsense from Sam about how he was so wrong...was just that, nonsense spouted from the mouth of a demon. No, Sam wasn't fully demon. The fact that the water didn't hurt him proved that. But the way that it smoked, proved there something demonic about him and that was all that mattered. It all made sense. Dean had said the demon had fed Sam his demon that night in the nursery. Sam had demon blood running through his veins. That made him as good as a demon as far as he was concerned. The holy water test had only proved it all.

Sam only smiled at him as if he knew the conclusion that John had come to. Sam then looked at the gun in his hands.

"I could shoot you, ya know," Sam said pointing it right at John's head, "But...I do love a good fire," he said after a while, dropping the hand with the gun down to his side. "I always find that a good fire brings back such fond memories, wouldn't you say John?"

John frowned, the anger his eyes burning bright. Sam sure knew just how to get under his skin and it unnerved him. He had never thought the sweet little boy he had watched grow up before his eyes could ever be so vindictive, so sweetly cruel. He had to kill him, that was all there was.

"I will kill you," John said, knowing that at the moment he was outnumbered in so many ways.

Sam smiled.

"Oh I count on it," he said with a sly smile. "But not before I cause as much unrepairable damage as I can."

He paused and bent down so that they were almost face to face.

"I will ruin you old man," Sam said, the venom in his voice almost palpable.

John shivered at those words.

"That's our cue to leave," Sam said cheerfully, standing up. "I'll meet you two out front," Sam said looking at the other two.

With a nod, Scott and the other kid nervously walked around John and down the hallway. Their fear was unfounded as, once again, he was held frozen in place.

Sam was the next one to walk around him, his gaze full of barely concealed contempt.

"I don't have to kill you to make my point," Sam said to him. "You'll do it for me when this is all said and done."

John shot all the anger and hatred that he could muster at Sam through his eyes as he watched the abomination that had become Sam, walk away. All his thoughts of Sam though were wiped away when he began to smell smoke.

Soon there was the telltale heat of what could only be fire.

* * *

Andy sat in his van across the street from the house, waiting anxiously for Sam to come out.

"What's taking him so long?" Scott asked from behind. He was in back of the van.

Andy could only sigh.

Then the front door opened and Sam appeared. He walked nonchalantly toward them as if he had all the time in the world. Andy could only dread what Sam had done that he could afford to take his time rather than running like a mad man away from the house like he and Scott had.

As he watched Sam cross the street, he contemplated what he was about to do and hoped that he was wrong.

"Scott," Andy started. "You can drive right?"

Scott nodded slowly.

"Take the wheel," he said, then he opened his door and stepped out.

Sam had finally reached the front of the van when Andy stopped him.

"What did you do?" he asked point blank.

Sam smiled.

"Smell the smoke?"

Andy's eyes went large.

"You set your dad on fire?" Andy said disbelievingly.

"Nah," Sam said, a strange glint in his eyes. "Sam wouldn't like that very much would he?"

Andy acted immediately.

**GET IN THE CAR.**

Sam only smirked.

"Don't worry," Sam said. "I'll do whatever you want."

Andy could only stare at Sam with a confused look on his face.

"Sam?" he asked.

"Oh he's in here," Sam said pointing at his head.

"Who are you?" Andy asked.

"An old friend of Sam's," not-Sam answered.

Andy frowned.

"Why didn't it work?" he mumbled as he turned back toward the van.

"It never worked in the first place," Sam said letting out a small chuckle. "I let you believe it though."

"Let Sam go," Andy said turning back to not-Sam.

"Well, if you want him dead, I can arrange that," came the reply.

Andy narrowed his eyes.

"Just get in the car," he gritted out.

Sam tipped his head.

"Gladly."

"And let Sam's dad go," Andy said walking toward the back of the van.

"Killjoy," not-Sam mumbled as he got into the passenger side seat. "You better drive like the wind then, cause that father of Sam's is going to be like a raging bull after this little escapade."

As Andy settled into the back, he kept a wary eye on Sam or whoever he was right now.

He felt disquieted at what he learned in the last few minutes. He wasn't sure that what was controlling Sam right now had their best interests in mind or not. So far it seemed to obey him, but what if he asked it to do something that it didn't want to?

He remembered the water that Sam's dad had thrown at Sam. The fact that it had sizzled but not hurt Sam had obviously thrown Sam's dad for a loop. Was it supposed to hurt? Why did it sizzle anyway?

What was it all supposed to tell Sam's dad?

He put that question on his mental list of things to ask Sam whenever this thing that had taken over, gave Sam back the reins.

"Punch it," Andy said.

And punch it Scott did. They shot away from the scene like a bullet, only to come to a screeching halt at the first stop sign they came across.

"Dude," Andy said, handing on to the seat in front of him for dear life. "I thought you said you could drive?"

Scott was holding the steering wheel in a death grip as he looked both ways before moving forward once more, slower this time.

"I can," Scott said finally, slightly raising his chin proudly. "I got my license last week."

Sam smiled and looked as if he would laugh. Andy rolled his eyes.

_What a great day,_ Andy thought sarcastically.

_I heartedly agree._

Andy looked up sharply at Sam.

Sam only smiled.

* * *

It was an angry and more than hell bent John Winchester that forcefully threw open his truck's door and got in, slamming it shut.

He quickly stuck his keys in the ignition and threw his truck into reverse. He had parked in the driveway of a vacated house several streets over. It would just be his luck to be found now, having ran from the scene of a suspicious fire. There were witnesses, but he hadn't stopped to let anyone get a clear look of his face or to answer any questions.

He pulled out onto the street, hearing the sound of sirens in the not so far distance. As for where he was head next, he had to get the heck out of doge before he could even think of that. As he drove away from the disaster he had just been a part of, he couldn't help but feel a tiny spark of doubt, like he was missing something; something big, but he didn't know what. He would never admit it, but Sam's words were making him think and he did not like it.

Never mind that.

All he had to do was think of what Sam was doing to Dean and all his resolve was strengthened. He hadn't stopped before and he wouldn't stop now. Screw Sam and his cryptic words, the only one who was going die when they next met would be Sam.

* * *

His white grip on the steering wheel had not lessened in the time following their escape. He had so much to think about, all while trying to focus on not killing them all with his driving in the waning light.

If you would have told him that morning that his day would end with him driving another person's van with two "gifted" strangers, escaping his burning house, and leaving everything behind he would have just thought you were one of those crazy homeless people that prophesied the end of the world that he saw on the strip.

Since it was the weekend, he was all alone in the house with nothing much to do. He didn't really have that many friends, so hanging out wasn't really an option. It was as if all the other kids could sense that he was different and so they stayed away. Perhaps that was more his fault then theirs though. He always knew he was different, so he shied away.

When it came to parents, all he had was his mom and that was only on the week days. On the weekends she worked on the strip at one of the hotels. He knew what she did, but they never really made a big deal out of it. She did it to pay the bills and she was good mom that was all that mattered.

Now their quiet life was ruined. He was on the run and the house was probably burned to the ground if what he had heard from Andy and Sam was true. His mom would be destroyed by the double blow, especially if everyone thought he burned in the fire. He felt horrible about that. Words couldn't describe his feelings.

Every mile that added to his separation from the life he knew, increased his anger and hatred for the man who had knocked on his door just hours ago claiming to be able to save him as long as he did everything the man said he needed to. The man, who was apparently Sam's father, had told him horrible things about Sam and his mission to "collect" special kids like him to use for some nefarious purpose. He had spoken of how Sam had tortured his own brother and was keeping him locked up who knows where. He had told him of how he could help to find Dean, that was the brother's name, and stop Sam from his evil doing.

How wrong that had been.

He was lucky that the shots had only been glancing. Still, it was more pain than he ever known in his life. As soon as that man had turned on him, it was all he needed to know that he was simply being used and that once his usefulness was through, that man would be more than willing to kill him off. Not only that, but the images that Andy had sent to his mind, strange as the whole thing was in the first place, explained everything that he and Sam had gone through before arriving at his doorstep and more. It was almost a tale to bizarre to even consider, but with his own strangeness to deal with, it somehow was all believable.

In the van all was silent. It seemed that everyone had their fair of things to think about.

He could understand that.

* * *

He was walking down an empty dark street. A lone street lamp lit the street he was walking down. The sky was dark and the stars were out. He didn't have a clue where he was.

_Sam..._

He looked around. There was no one around him who could have spoken. He walked on.

From what he could see, the buildings around him were older, reminiscent of the old western towns he had seen in his textbooks. One sign on the front of a store front read "Ghost Town."

_Just where was he?_

_Sammy..._

"Hello?" Sam asked aloud.

Nothing.

The place was quiet as ever, empty. He frowned.

_Saaaaaam..._

He looked around himself again. This time the open street to his right seemed to glow. He felt strangely compelled to move in that direction. With nothing else to go on, Sam followed his feelings. After a while the strange glow moved to his left. He stopped. It seemed as if the light was leading him somewhere, but was where he wanted and needed to go? The light pulsated as if to communicate impatience. He sighed and took a step forward toward the dim light. And with that thought a distant memory was brought to the front of his mind.

_"Don't look at the light!" Dean said faking horror on his face._

_They were walking through a dark forest on a hunt. The moon shown between the trees above them._

_"I-can't-help-it," Sam said breathlessly. It's-so-beautiful..."_

_Dean burst out laughing and so did he._

It had been a once in a blue moon kind of thing. It had been his birthday and A Bug's Life had just become available at the rental store that he walked by on the way home from school. It had taken a lot of...bugging...to get Dean to watch it with him, but once he did, he had enjoyed just as much as Sam if not more. Dean had made him swear not to tell anyone that he had watched the kiddie flick though.

The memory made him smile.

_Help me Sam..._

Dean.

It was Dean who was calling him.

The more he stared at the light that was leading him, the more he became sure that he was supposed to follow, that where the light would lead was to where Dean was.

_I'm coming Dean, _he thought back.

* * *

A little over two hours later, the van pulled into a Super 8 motel parking lot in Kingman, Arizona.

Scott had managed to relax somewhat, but Andy was as tense as ever. Not-Sam sat in the front seat, a slight smile on his face. It angered Andy, but there was nothing he could do.

Not-Sam looked at him knowingly in the rear view mirror and tipped his head serving to only further irritate him more.

"Stay here," he said finally. "I'll get us a room."

Before he could completely exit the back, Scott called out.

"Can I come with you?" Scott was glancing uneasily at not-Sam.

Andy could understand that.

"Why don't we all go then," he said glaring at not-Sam who only raised an eyebrow.

He wasn't about to trust his van to whoever was possessing Sam at the moment.

They made quite a sight when they entered the lobby. Blood stained and weary looking like they had just murdered someone, they approached the front desk. The woman who greeted them gave them a look that told them she thought they were trouble. She reached for the phone, but Andy stopped her. Once he worked his magic, there was no trouble at all.

Minutes later they were in their room and ready to drop.

Scott stood awkwardly as if he was waiting for permission to make his next move.

"Scott," Andy said. "You _can_ take a bed you know."

Scott looked sheepish. They had booked a double room. He could understand Scott's confusion, but he didn't have the patience to explain.

Not-Sam had taken a seat in a chair by the door.

"You," Andy said to him. "In the bed. Now."

Not-Sam snorted and raised his eyebrows.

"I never would've pegged for being that type of guy," he said suggestively.

Andy only glared.

"Sit, roll over, is that what I have to look forward to?" not-Sam said sarcastically.

"Just do it," Andy said frustratedly.

Not-Sam smiled and stood up.

"You really think you're gonna watch me sleep and guard the door all night?" he questioned.

Andy stood his ground.

"You won't last 30 minutes," not-Sam said moving over to the bed.

"Watch me," Andy said, taking not-Sam's spot in the chair.

"Gladly," not-Sam said putting his hands behind his head and crossing his feet lazily.

Andy crossed his arms angrily and began his watch.

* * *

It was a winding walk along sometimes wooden, sometimes not even there, sidewalks that brought him to where he was now. The area he had gone through was very touristy with gimmicky shop names and antiques in almost every other store. The sky above was starting to lighten just barely. Morning would be coming soon. It felt like he had walked miles yet he had not gone far at all. The roads in this place wound back and forth up the mountain. He had ducked between buildings and gone thorough alleyways to get to where he was, passing building after historical building. Maybe he wasn't even in the right time anymore. It was like he had taken a journey back in time. If it weren't for the parked vehicles he had passed, then he might have given into that thought.

Now he was near the top of the town from what he could tell. Here at the top looking down, he had a grand view of the valley beyond the town, all covered in moonlight, but he still had no clue where he was.

_Sam..._

This time Sam could have sworn he heard the voice coming from the building across the street. The telltale glow had vanished in that direction so he stepped into the street and made his way there. The streets were empty. No one seemed to be awake. He had yet to see any lights on in this town, but he supossed everyone was simply asleep.

The door that greeted him was large, made of solid wood and very ornate. It gave off a luxuriousness that was of decades gone by. He pulled it open and stepped inside. All was dark, but a glow up ahead told where he needed to go. He wasn't scared of what he would find as long as he found Dean.

After walking through a complex maze of hallways and up countless stairs, the light passed through a door at the end of the hall. Sam walked forward, his breaths the only sounds in the closed space.

When he reached the door he paused for a moment listening. Hearing nothing he put his hand on the door knob and turned it. Inside a dim light came in through a shaded window. He felt along the walls for a light switch. Just when he found it and flipped it on, something grabbed his leg. He kicked blindly and turned around in the new light.

"Dean!" he gasped, when he caught sight of just who had grabbed him. "Dean!"

He quickly bent down, tears forming in his eyes. Dean was a mess.

"What did they do to you?" he asked softly.

Dean was looking up at him with glazed eyes.

"S-am?" Dean said weakly.

"I'm here," Sam said.

"Why?," Dean asked before breaking into a coughing fit that shook his entire body.

Sam bent down to help Dean but found his hands went right through him.

"No," he whispered. This couldn't be a dream! Not a vision! It had to be real.

"You...you d-id this to m-me," Dean forced out.

"What?" Sam said confused.

Right before his eyes, Dean pushed himself off the floor, the various injuries disappearing as if they hadn't been there in the first place.

"I've sacrificed so much for you," Dean said standing up, towering over Sam. "And all you've done is through it all right back in my face."

"No," Sam whispered.

"You chose a demon over me, over dad, "Dean said. "All you've ever wanted is to get away, to be free of us, me and dad."

"You're so selfish," Dean said, his words dripping with venom. "It's a wonder I didn't do this sooner."

"Dean," Sam said, shaking his head. "You can mean this."

Dean smirked.

"Oh I do baby brother," he said. "You pushed me to this."

Sam face fell.

Dean laughed.

"Now the tables turned, you don't like it to much do you?" Dean said smiling, looking down on a pained Sam with enjoyment. "All those things I said, everything will be better, it's not your fault...lalala, I lied."

He tilted his head.

"Well not about the things will get better part," he said. "For me, not you."

"There has to be something else," Sam said quietly. "This isn't you."

"You tell yourself that Sammy," Dean said. "You just haven't seen the real me. What you knew was...a farce."

"What do you want?" Sam asked.

"I want you to pay up," Dean said.

"Pay up?" Sam questioned.

"The way I see it." Dean said, "You owe me."

Sam frowned.

"I'm working on something that will change the world, and I need you for it all to work."

"Why?" Sam asked.

"Because you're the perfect match," Dean said. "The others are great, but they wouldn't last half as long as you would or have the powers that you have."

"What for?" Sam asked afraid to know the answer.

"Well, it wouldn't be for a while and I would have to prep you for it," Dean said. "But all you would need to do is say yes at the right time and then poof, all your troubles would be gone."

A plan was forming in his mind.

"And until then?" Sam asked.

"That's a surprise," Dean said putting a finger to his mouth.

He smiled.

"Remember what I told your little friend?" Dean asked.

Sam frowned.

Dean put a hand on his hip.

"I want you to come to me," Dean said. "I may not like you at all, but you have your usefulness."

Sam just wanted to leave.

"We can do so much together," Dean said.

"What if I don't want to," Sam said.

Dean smirked.

"You still care about Dad?" Dean said.

"What about him?" Sam asked.

"He's coming," Dean said. "And I have great plans for him. He has a role in all of this as well, perhaps one of the most important."

"Which is?" Sam asked.

"He has a lot of sins to pay for wouldn't you say?," Dean said. "I figure he could use some special time down where the fire burns and the sun don't shine."

Sam's eyes widened. He may not have much love for his dad at the moment, but that didn't mean that the man should go to hell.

"I see that got your attention," Dean said. "He'll be in no time."

"You can't do that," Sam said.

"Wanna bet?" Dean said. "You're not the only one in this family with freaky powers."

"But why?" Sam asked, "Why do that to him? Why him?"

"Do you have a better idea?" Dean asked with a knowing glint in his eye.

Sam just glared.

"Time's a wasting," Dean said. "Dad is on his way. I suggest you get a move on."

Everything started to fade away.

"Wait!" Sam yelled. "Where are you?"

He looked around the room frantically for something, anything that would reveal just where Dean was. As if meant to be, the last thing he saw before it all completely faded into black was a poster on the wall that read:

_The wickedest town in the west._

When he opened his eyes next, it was to find himself staring at a ceiling. He sat up. He was in a motel room. Scott lay sleeping the bed next to him. Andy was sitting half slumped over in a chair by the door, sleeping.

He had to get out of here. Alone. He couldn't let Andy and Scott come with him, their choice or not. He didn't need their deaths on his conscience because he knew that if they were to come, that's what they would face. Heck he would be facing that, but his life was his to risk. He wouldn't leave without a note though. Andy was his friend and had stood by him when anyone else would have ran the other way, he owed him that much. Scott wasn't quite a friend, but had they the time, they might of been.

Quietly he opened the bedside table drawer and pulled out that pad of paper there. Both Andy and Scott were sleeping like the dead. He couldn't blame them. They had had an exhausting day. When he finished writing, he folded the paper in half and left it on his pillow. Then, with nothing else to grab but what he already had on himself, he got off the bed and quietly walked toward the door. Andy slept on as he opened the door and crept outside, closing the door gently behind him. Once in the parking lot, he searched out Andy's van. It took a few minutes, but eventually he was able to hotwire it. He felt bad for taking it, but he would feel worse about taking someone else's vehicle. Andy would be fine he kept telling himself. Hurt, but fine.

When he looked at the gas tank though, he wondered just how long this little jaunt would be since he was out of gas.

_Look in your back pocket,_ a voice echoed in his mind.

Frowning and reaching back he found that he had a wallet there. When he opened it, he was shocked. It was his dad's.

_How in the world did I get this?_

_I thought ahead,_ the voice said in his head.

_How?_ Sam asked, genuinely had no memory of what happened after he had blacked out in that kitchen. His mind was still processing what he had seen in his vision.

_I just took it,_ the voice replied.

_And he let you?_ Sam asked skeptically.

_He really wasn't in a position to resist,_ that voice said.

He wanted to find out more, but figured he probably wouldn't like what he would hear.

_Got that right_, the voice chimed in.

Sam sighed.

_He's still alive right?_

_Sadly._

Shaking his head, he got out of the van and filled up the tank. Then he went inside to pay. The man at the counter was half asleep when he asked about the wickedest town in the west. The man had been surprising knowledgeable.

"You're thinking about Jerome," the man said.

"Jerome?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, winding roads, steep hills, well I mean, it's on a mountain," the man said. "It's an old western mining town, that's Jerome."

"How do I get there?" Sam asked.

"What are you 16, 17?" the man asked.

"18," Sam said quickly, the lie came easily to him.

"What do you want with a place like that?" he asked.

"Sightseeing," Sam said with a look that said he meant business.

The man shrugged his shoulders.

"Whatever lights your fire," he said.

It had taken a few minutes to get it all, but Sam was able to walk out of that convenience store with the directions written on his hand. He would be there by morning, hopefully before his dad could get there. Not only that, but Andy wouldn't be able to follow him. He had wiped that man's memory clean, with a few pointers from the voice in his head. He hated having to resort to such methods, but he wasn't hurting the man so he let it go and went ahead with it.

_See,_ the voice in his head said as he pulled out onto the road. _You can be brilliant. You just have to learn to let go of all that pesky morals crap._

Sam could understand what the voice was getting at and it scared him; mainly because he was starting to agree with it.

_Where had being all self-righteous about everything gotten him anyway?_

* * *

"Andy," a voice said.

Someone was shaking him. He swatted a hand at them to make them go away.

"He's gone Andy," the voice said. "Sam's gone."

_Wait a moment._

His eyes shot open.

Immediately he looked around. Sam wasn't in the bed where he had last seen him. The bathroom door was wide open. No one was there.

"How long?" he asked Scott.

"I don't know," Scott replied. "I just woke up."

Andy stood up and put his hands to his head.

"Great," he muttered.

Not-Sam had been right about him not lasting the night. Now the question was who left the room, Sam or not-Sam?

"He left this," Scott said holding out a folded piece of paper to him. Andy took it and read.

The more he read, the more his anger at Sam eventually faded into sadness. Sam really had self-esteem issues if he thought that his and Scott's lives were worth more than his. But with what Sam had been dealing with, for who knows how long before they had met, whatever reasons he had for thinking the way he did, had to be deeply imbedded, and one heart to heart wasn't going to fix all that. But no matter Sam wishes, hell if they were just gonna let him go off and get himself killed. They were going to figure this out.

After all, there really wasn't anything he couldn't get if he tried hard enough.

"Uh, Andy," Scott said, a worried tone in his voice. He was standing by the window, looking out at the parking lot through the shades. "Where's your van?"

Andy's face dropped.

_He didn't..._

He did.

"Come on Sam," Andy said annoyed.

_We are _so_ going to find you and when we do, we are going to have a _serious_ talk, _he thought.


	13. Chapter 13 Pathogen

**So...it's been about a year since I last updated this. Yeah... Sorry 'bout that :{ I kinda lost my inspiration for it and then I got a new job in another state and I found a new show that distracted me from this and the excuses just keep piling up don't they? Well good news is that I have this all finished now. I just have to edit the remaining chapters and post them. On an ironic note, The first time I tried to upload this, was down, so I gave up. Then the next time I tried, it was down again. Third times the charm I guess. **

**Enjoy!**

* * *

**CHAPTER 13**

**Pathogen**

Sweet dreams are made of this  
Who am I to disagree?  
Travel the world and the seven seas  
Everybody's looking for something

_Sweet Dreams, Eurythmics_

* * *

Dean was furious.

Scratch that, he was more than that, there were no words that could describe how he felt. The demon had found its way into Sam's head, into his dreams, and told him things that he himself would never say. Sam had to know that. His brother knew him better than anyone.

_You keep telling yourself that Dean, _the demon interrupted. _Cause it sure looked like he took your words to heart last night._

_Go to hell,_ Dean threw back.

_Been there, done that_, the demon retorted_. Your comebacks are really getting old._

_As old as your are, you hag?_ Dean said venomously.

The demon laughed.

_Now that's what i'm talking about, _the demon replied, _"Tell you what, i'm feeling generous today."_

That couldn't be good.

_You must be getting tired of all that blackness by now,_ the demon said, _Perhaps its time to take off the blinders, for good._

Save for what he had seen last night, it seemed like forever since he had seen what was going on in the outside world. The last thing he could remember seeing was Sam walking in front of a bus. The image had not left him since.

_Why are you doing this?_ Dean asked.

_Why, because Sammy is coming today,_ the demon said. _How soon you forget. _

Dean hadn't forgotten, but he wanted to hear in the demon's own words what the purpose of this all was.

_The complete family reunion will have to wait though,_ the demon said. _I figure I'll let your dad marinate in his anger and frustration for a while. That way, he'll be extra delightful when he finally finds his way here._

_How considerate of you, _Dean said sarcastically.

_I aim to please, _the demon said tipping his head.

With those words, the blackness around him blinked out of existence and was replaced with a whole new sight. He had thought that he was seeing the world around before, but this, this was as if he was back in control, seeing out of his own eyes, touching, and smelling the world around him. What he had seen before was like looking at a television. This...this was...too good to be true.

The demon opened a door, reminding him that he still was not in control, revealing the room from the dream last night. He walked toward the window and peered through the shades. The light of morning was slowly sweeping away the darkness.

A dark colored van pulled up next to the curb, right in front of the building. A fierce looking viking woman was painted on the side. Was that a polar bear next to her? He couldn't help but be intrigued by who would drive such a vehicle.

Then the front door opened and Sam stepped out.

_What the..?_

He never would've guessed.

_Your brother's changed these past few weeks Deanie,_ the demon said.

Dean ignored the demon and watched as Sam glanced up at the building before him. He wanted to sigh, but his body wasn't his to control. Sam _had_ changed and it wasn't just the ride he had come here in. Physically, there was a starved look about him. He was already tall and lanky, but now even more so. His eyes looked dead and hallow, his hair unkempt and scraggly. His posture was slouched.

Beyond physical appearances, there was a quiet strength burning beneath the surface. He could feel it. He knew his brother even better than he knew himself. Sam had not given up.

_Look closer Dean Dear_, the demon said.

For once he willingly did as he was told. He looked at Sam intently. The closer he looked the more he felt that here was something else...off. Like a dark cloud surrounding him, suffocating him. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it was there and he didn't like it.

The demon smiled in glee at his conclusion.

_Good catch Sherlock,_ the demon said. _Somethings up with little baby Winchester._

_Don't sound so excited, _Dean thought back.

_Or what? _the demon asked. _Last time I checked, you weren't in any position to tell me what to do._

Dean seethed.

_I will find a way to undo you_, Dean said, _Mark my words._

The demon smirked.

_You'll try._

* * *

The drive to Jerome had been just about as interesting as watching grass grow. Flat desert for as far as the eye could see had been his view for the last 4 hours or so. Morning was dawning around him illuminating the focus of his desire.

The city was something out of an old John Wayne movie. the structures were worn and dusty looking. the roads were steep and winding. Coming to a stop, he switched the van off and just sat there. What he had seen in his vision had etched itself in his mind so that by the time he arrived, he knew exactly where to go. Now that he was here though, he had a moment to think about foolish this all was.

He was alone in a town he had only seen in his dreams with no weapons, going against two people who had it out for him, one of which with grand plans of domination and another with no plan at all other than to kill him. Both were deadly in their own way.

_What am I, chopped liver?_ a voice echoed in his head.

Though he had hated that voice in the beginning, now he was starting to like it.

_Sorry, _he thought back.

_Chopped liver I tell you, _the voice muttered.

Though at times malevolent, there was an endearing quality to the voice. It hadn't brought any harm to him after all. In fact it was there when he would otherwise be a heap on the ground, vulnerable to anyone and anything that passed by.

_Are we gonna get a move on?_ the voice asked.

Sam sighed and opened the door. There was nothing else to do but get on with it. Closing the door behind him, Sam frowned. All of sudden he felt...different. Something had shifted and he could figure out what.

_We're back among friends Sammy boy,_ the voice said triumphantly.

_Friends?_

_You figure it out soon,_ the voice said mysteriously. _Don't you worry a hair on your head. I've got your back._

Sam didn't know why, but somehow, that promise didn't leave him reassured.

Gazing up at the building before him, he took in every detail of it's exterior. It was a quaint two story building. Porches on both floors wound around the entire place. Made of wood and worn around the edges, it was everything you would expect to find in an old western town.

In his dream the place had seemed so much larger; the hallways and stairs innumerable, but standing here now, it wasn't really all that grand or scary looking. Yet, still there was a dark cloud hanging over him at the prospect of going inside.

_Just go inside you wuss_, the voice said.

Sam took a deep breath and move forward. When he reached the front door, he took a moment to appreciate the fine work that had gone into its creation. The door was made of a rich colored wood that he couldn't name and was beautifully carved. It was heavy too.

Once inside, all was dark just as it was in his vision. As he walked he listened carefully for any sound. All was silent. Then a light appeared in front of him. It moved away from him down a hallway. He followed.

Eventually the light led him to a curving stairway. Following the light, he found himself on the second floor. He still couldn't make out much with only the pale light guiding him to serve as a light. Then just as in his vision, the light moved to the end of the hallway and disappeared through a door.

This was it. No going back. But no matter how much he knew his dad hated him and wanted him dead, he could not let him go to hell for it. It was him or dad and he would rather it be him. After the horrible things he had done, even hell would be too kind a destination fro him. So he walked forward burying all that doubt and fear deep down in his mind.

When he got to the door, he didn't even have to open it. It opened on it's own.

"Hello there Sammy," Dean said, standing there in all his glory, looking unharmed and well rested. "Glad you could join the party."

Sam watched him wearily.

"What now?" he asked.

"Now we get to the fun part," Dean said. "The preparation."

"You never did say what for," Sam said as if they were getting ready for some mundane everyday event and not a trip to hell.

Dean shifted his weight.

"Cause it's not really important," Dean replied. "At least for you. You won't even care by the time the time comes."

Sam frowned.

Dean smiled.

"Never you mind the details," Dean said. "Everything will be taken of. You might experience some pain though, let me warn you. But soon, it will all just disappear."

Sam didn't have any time to think of the significance of those words before everything went black and he knew no more.

* * *

"Take him to the cooler," the demon ordered.

The two demons that had come up behind Sam nodded and picked him up from the floor with ease, as if he were a rag doll.

_The cooler?_ Dean asked. _What are you going to do to him?_

The demon smiled.

_Ignorance is bliss_, it replied, _For you at least._

_Tell me! _Dean ordered.

The demon paused, thinking.

_Fine,_ it replied. _But don't tell me I didn't warn you._

Dean waited for an explanation.

_I'll do even better than that Dean_, the demon said._ I'll show you._

The demons that had taken Sam away had already disappeared down the hall. With the morning light starting to come in through the windows, he could make out a few pictures hanging on the wall.

The stair case railings were some of the fanciest he had ever seen; all carved and smooth. Downstairs, the view wasn't much different. All doors seemed to be shut. his footsteps on the wooden floor were the only sound made.

Eventually they passed what looked like the front door. Beyond that, the hallway opened up into a large front room. He walked right around the antique looking looking couches and coffee tables and toward an archway that lead into another large room. The next room was the dinning room judging by the small tables with neat little vases at the center of each one. The tables filled the entire room. Weaving around those, they ended up at a rather nondescript looking door, this time opening to reveal a kitchen. Ignoring everything else, they man a beeline for a door that was on the opsite side of the room.

When he turned the door knob, he noticed that it locked on the outside.

_Can't have whats in, get out,_ the demon explained.

Stairs leading downwards greeted them on the other side. Upon descending them, the first thing Dean noticed was how cold it was.

_Sure beats hellfire,_ the demon quipped.

All he could think of was how Sam would freeze if he was going got be kept here. When he had seen Sam earlier, all he had been wearing was a thin sweater.

_The same you left him in on that side of the road in Illinois,_ the demon added helpfully.

_That was you genius,_ Dean said angrily.

_Not to Sam,_ the demon replied.

Dean didn't reply. He was too busy staring at Sam. They had walked to a place in the room that was well hidden from anyone just entering from the stairs. Behind all the shelves an boxes and behind an old refrigerator under the stairs lay Sam. He was in a bed or rather a cot. He was tied down; his legs, arms and head held back by unforgiving straps. The two demons stood on his other side.

"Are you ready Sam?", the demon asked.

Sam turned as much as he could under his restraints to look at him. There were no emotions in his gaze.

"The more you fight the harder it will be," the demon said walking closer until he was looking down directly at Sam.

Sam only blinked.

"You don't say," the demon said boredly.

Dean could only wonder at how Sam was acting. The Sam he knew would have been fighting this the whole way, struggling till he dropped. This Sam was just...wrong.

He felt the demon smile.

"Sweet dreams Sammy,"

And just like that Sam's eyes closed and he was deathly still.

_What did you do to him?_ Dean asked frantially.

"He's not dead, if that's what your thinking" the dmeon answered, "He's just... in another reality of sorts."

Dean thought hard about everything the demon had said last night, trying to connect the dots.

_You made Sam think he had to go to hell or dad would_, Dean said finally. That had to be why Sam had walked so willingly into all of this. _But you never were going to do any such thing._

The demon smirked.

_I can't help what Sam thought,_ the demon answered.

_So no one is going to hell_, Dean asked _That was just to get Sam here._

The demon smiled.

_Not so fast_, the demon said._ Someone has to go for all this to work out as it should._

Dean was silent.

_What, no volunteers?_ the demon said._ You would rather your father went after all?_

Dean didn't say anything.

_You do!_ The demon aid triumphantly. _Imagine if poor Sammy were to know about that._

_There are no words for my father_, Dean said with anger. _No words to describe how I feel about him._

_So you would sign him over to the devil even if it resulted in the end of the world as you know it?_

Dean would have frowned if he could.

_You Winchester men, all hotheads, not thinking beyond your little family feuds, except for little Sammy here_, the demon said._ It seems he has finally managed to overcome that personal failing._

_Shut up!_ Dean said finally. _Just shut up!_

_Can't take the heat?_ the demon taunted. _Take this then._

He blinked and he was suddenly in another place, one so familiar yet so foreign at the same time.

It was a warm inviting home that greeted his vision. The living room he was in was neat and clean but felt lived in. There were pictures on every surface of happy smiling people. Upon closer inspection, the people in the photos were more than familiar to him.

"Mom," he whisphered taking a picture off th mantel beside him. He looked at the other picture there and found others with his mom, his dad, sometimes the both of them, Sam and him, and another with a beautiful woman holding a nweborn baby in her arms. He didn't have long to think about what it all meant as a sudden yell from upstairs broke him away.

"You're not real!" a voice yelled.

The sound of a door slamming and someone running down the stairs followed the declaration. Soon Dean saw just who was making the racket.

"Sam!" Dean called out when Sam turned a corned and came running toward him.

But Sam didn't reply or even seem to notice him. Running straight through him, Sam headed right for the front door, wrenched it open and ran outside.

"What the?" Dean mouthed looking at his chest, then turning around sharply in the direction that Sam had ran. What would cause Sam to react like that?

There was no time to figure that out though. He rushed out the front door and after Sam only to find himself in another place once again. This time he was outside on the side of a deserted looking highway. It was pitch black, the middle of the night. In one direction was nothing but darkness, the other, he could see the bright light of a shopping center not too far away. He looked for Sam.

Sam was walking, but not toward the saftey of the light. He walking away toward the dark nothingness. In the dim light, he realized that Sam was wearing his bright blue pajama pants. They were his favorite, but not enough to wear outside like this. Not only that, but Sam wasn't wearing a coat. No coat in this weather? Sam was nuts. He rushed up to Sam so that he was right beside him.

"Sam," he asked, "Where are you going?"

Sam didn't answer or even acknowledge his presence. Curious. Dean trust out a hand into Sam. Just as he had suspected, it went right through him. Sam couldn't see him. He supossed that this was why the demon was only too happy to let him in on this. To see Sam's suffering but not be able to do anything... _that dam demon._

He looked into Sam's face. Sam was miserable. His eyes were downcast, his hands in his pockets. He looked so forelorn. He wondered what all this was about and where they were.

Up ahead, a car could be seen in the distance. Its headlights flashed them randomly as it swerved. Dean shook his head, drunk drivers. They were as bad as the evil things they killed every week. The car came closer. Though he was all but invisible to Sam, he didn't want to risk anything so he moved to the far side of the road. Sam however, didn't move; he didn't even look up.

"Sam!" Dean shouted. "Move!"

As if he heard him, Sam looked up, but it was too late.

Dean could only stand there as Sam went flying behind him into the darkness beside the road.

"Sam!" Dean called out, knwoing it was futile and Sam couldn't hear him.

He blinked.

It was still dark, but somehow he knew that he was not in the same place. A voice yelling out from behind, made him turn around.

"You'll stay where you are if you know what's good for you."

"You'll take me with you if you know what's good for you," Sam threw back.

Dean could only star slack jawed as Sam argued with...himself?

The first punch came out of nowhere, knocking Sam backwards. Sam gingerly touched his jaw. Dean's eyes widened as he watched himslef harm his little brother. His heart broke when he heard the quiet whispher that follwed.

"Why?"

Dean watched silently as his other self walked away toward the dirvers side door of the Impala as if to leave, but surely he wouldn't leave Sam like this?

Sam ran after his other self and tackled him to the ground. Now there was Sammy he had grown up with.

"You can't leave me here Dean," Sam pleaded. "Don't leave me here alone."

The way Sam was pleading made Dean want to look away, but he didn't. He had never seen Sam plead with such desperation in his eyes ever and it was unsettling.

His other self looked sorry, but only for a moment.

"It has to be this way," he heard himself say before his other self raised his fist again.

The second blow sent Sam to the ground on his back. Dean took a step forward, but restrained himself. There was nothing he could do as his other self hit Sam again and again; over and over.

"You stay away from me Sammy, you hear me?" his other self said standing up. "Don't you dare follow me."

"Dean," Sam pleaded. "Please don't do this to me."

He saw Dean shake his head.

"No can do kiddo."

Dean watched with anger in his eyes as his other self opened the door of the Impala, ignited her engine and drove away without a backward glance.

The next thing he knew, he was in a dark room. All he could hear was ragged breathing.

Then the light went on and all he could see was blood everywhere and Sam looking horrified and guilt ridden.

_He couldn't have...could he?_

A woman, or at least that he thought it was, lay mangled on the eyes looked on the body and he backed up until he hit the wall and slowly slid down it. Sam looked miserable and alone and there was nothing Dean could do.

Then, still staring at Sam, he noticed it had gotten cold all of a sudden. That was because he wasn ot in the room anymore. He was outside, in a park somewhere. Snow covered the ground. Sam was sitting on the ground, his back to a large sturdy tree. His arms were wrapped around his knees and he was rocking back and forth mumbling.

_What was the point of this all?_

Sam froze. Dean looked around them. In the distance someone was approaching. It couldn't be...

The scene before him seemed to fast forward as his dad rushed up to where Sam was. Mouths moved but no sound was heard. Then his dad was flying into a tree and the scene changed again.

Now he was wathcing himself push Sam into a wall violently. The fear in Sam's eyes was tangeble.

Then Sam was lying in the middle of a road, a bus stopped jsut feet away, a large crowd closing in on him menacingly. But just a moment later they were flying everywhich way away from him.

John was pointing a gun at Sam next in an unknown kitchen. Then their places were switched and Sam was walking away from John as flames began to grow around him.

The a gun fired. And the world seemed to freeze.

_How could it be?_

"Dean!" Sam shouted.

They were in a werehouse of some sort. The gathered crowd was diappating as Sam rushed to the other Dean, the gun slipping from his grasp.

"How could you?" the other Dean accused.

_This never happened. What was this?_

_This, Dean, is reality,_ a voice echoed around him.

Dean shook his head.

_There is so much that Sam has seen and done that you cannot posibly even begun to understand or even comprehend._

He watched as Sam sobbed on the floor over what looked like his dead body.

_He has been manipulated, coerced, violated, beaten, killed, brouhgt back, betrayed, the list goes on and on. It's actually quite sad._

_Your point?_ Dean asked looking away from Sam.

_It was all for you Dean,_ the demon answered. _All for what you could have had, for what he took away from you._

The darknes of the werehouse faded into another scene. He was back where he had started. The house was warm and cozy ad a wonderful smell was coing from the kitchen. Not quite knowing how he knew, he walked toward it and found two women talking as they cooked.

_Mom,_ he mouthed.

the other person looked so mch like her that she had to be related. When she was refered to as mom he figured the woman was his grandmother. He looked at her sadly. He had never known her, or least he didnt remember her.

Laughter from another room caght his attention. Following the sound, he found himself in the living room. Two men were sitting with their backs to him facing the TV. A football game was on.

Surprising him, a small head bounced up from beside one of the men, leaned on the couch, and looked right at him. It was a little blond haired boy probably no older then 3 or 4.

"Who are you?" he asked innocently.

One of the men tuned to the boy.

"Who are you talking to Dean?"

_Dad?_

It couldn't be. This man was too carefree, watching of all things a football game. He didn't look as worn out or jaded. He looked...happy...content...kind?

To his right, he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. Through the window he looked out ointo the backyard. It was a christmas postcard of a view. Little kids throwing snowballs and building forts. He had never really had that sort of experience growing up. It looked fun but no doubt wouldv'e been seen as a pointless waste of time by John. Thus the scene was foreign to him. He turned away from the window.

Only to find that the football game that was on just minutes earlier was no longer on. And it was evening now. The people siting in the room were different too, and older. His other self was now the same age as he was, and John had a few more wrinkles and graying hair. Mom sat next to him on the couch, but she didn't seem any older, just more beautiful. He walked back to the couch to get a better look at what they were doing. It was then he noticed the very pregnat girl sitting across from his parents. His other self was sitting beside her holding up a tiny shirt.

_Get. Out. No. Way._

This isn't real! Dean shouted.

Frowning, he watched as his other self stood up and looked right at him.

"It could've been," he said.

Dean shook his head in denial.

"You can't tell me that you don't want this," the other dean accused. "You'd be lying if you said no."

There was no reply. Only silence.

What do you want? Dean yelled looking around himself. Why show me this?

_Why indeed,_ a voice answered.

It was a different voice. It wasn't the one he had grown accustomed to, yet still familiar in a strange and distant way, like he had heard it before. Then to his shock, Sam appeared right in front of him, next to his other self.

"You tell your handler, that two can play this game," Sam said sounding nothing like what he was used to. There was a malace there that sent shivers down his spine. It was a complete 360 from the way he had last seen Sam laying on that cot tied down and resigned to his fate.

"You're not Sam," Dean said. It was a stab in the dark, but what did he have to lose?

Sam smiled wide.

"Perceptive," he replied. "Looks like we have a winner here folks."

"Who are you?" Dean asked.

"Ah the million dollar question," Sam said airily. "To Sam I'm just another part of his fractured mind."

Dean frowned.

"But I'm not," Sam said. "I'm so much more."

"But were in his mind," Dean said. "Where is he?"

"He is where I put him," the person in front of him answered. "He sees what I let him, he does what I let him. I control him. I feed off him. His weakness is my strength."

"Who are you?" Dean asked again.

"Wouldn't you like to know," came the reply. "But you better get used to me cause soon it will just be me in here and when that happens I will get my revenge."

"Now, as lovely as your presence here has been, I have work to do," Not-Sam said nonchalantly. "No doubt your mistress will be frothing at the mouth to know what is going on in here after this little taste, but I can't have that. She has the gall to think she is running the shots around here. Soon she'll see. Soon."

Suddenly, he felt the sensation of flying backwards as everything whirled into darkness around him. Then with a crash, revealing just how fast he was going, he hit a barier. How this was possible was beyond his frazzled mind to comprehend. Adding further to his confusion, the area aroud him abrubtly exploded into vivid images flying around him. Scenes of terror and torture, unadulterated pleasure and even moreso than the rest, burning flames. Each one different from the last.

A loud pain filled screem broke through the air and brought Dean to his knees, his hands covering his ears. The very air around him seemed to vibrate, to shiver. It was as if it was was crumbling down around him.

_What was going on?_


	14. Chapter 14 The road to perdition

**CHAPTER 14**

**The road to perdition**

_The wreckage of my past keeps haunting me_

_It just won't leave me alone…_

_Road to nowhere, Ozzy Osbourne_

* * *

Dean!

For just a moment, Dean had been standing right next to him, then he was gone and all was dark. There were no moon or stars above him, yet he could tell he was outside. The chilly air surrounded him and made him shiver. Slowly, his eyes began to adjust and he started to realized that the area around him wasn't as empty as it had seemed. Up ahead, was a town that rose with the mountainside it was on.

He remembered passing by this area on his way up the mountain to the hotel. How he got from the opposite side of town to where he was now was worrying at best. What was Dean playing at? First he was in the cooler, then in that strangely familiar room with Dean and now on the edge of town.

Now what? What was Dean trying to accomplish by all this?

He had thought he was submitting to hell, but this didn't look like Hell. It wasn't even hot. But then again, who really knew what it was like. It wasn't like those who went could come back and tell the tale. He started walking. The silence of the surrounding night was loud in his ears. No crickets, no birds, no wind. Nothing.

Behind him he heard the sound of gravel moving. Not daring to breath, his eyes wide, he slowly turned around. He was out in the open. There was no hiding.

Preparing for the worst he cautiously opened his eyes. Someone was there standing in the darkness. From the what he could make out in the dim light, the figure was about his size and standing as still as the dead. The person didn't make a sound.

"Who are you?" Sam asked.

Silence was his answer. The figure moved toward him. Sam took a step back, but not fast enough. It was with even wider eyes that he watched as the person walked right through him as if he was nothing.

He stiffly tuned around and watched the person walk toward the town. He was torn about following. Hell, he was torn about many things right now. The big question on his mind was that of reality. Was this...real? or just a dream? The last he could remember was being brought down stairs into a freezing cold room and then seeing some memories he'd rather forget. Was that the dream and this reality or was it the reverse? He was loosing his grip on what was real and what wasn't. He supposed it was bound to happen when dreams came to life, and life's twists and turns became so unbelievable that it just had to be a dream.

Still not sure what was going on here, or if he would ever understand, he followed after the dark figure.

There were no people he could see around them. No lights lit in any of the buildings around him. The whole place looked like an abandoned ghost town. If anything, it looked even more desolate than in his previous visions of the place.

_Saaaaammmmmmmy_ a voice whispered stopping him in his tracks and drawing his attention toward the next street. The voice also seemed to attract the attention of the person he was following as they had stopped as well.

He frowned. Just who was this person?

The street was quiet now, no trace of the hissing voice. Sam smirked to himself as he saw the person in front of him move in the opposite direction from where the voice had seemingly urged him to go. If he had had to make the choice, he would've done that too. Not wanting to be alone, even though the person he was following didn't seem to even notice him, Sam quickly followed.

In the silence of the open street, Their footsteps, though quieter than most people were capable of, thundered in his ears. It was then that he noticed something off about the person he was following. The rhythm of their steps was off as if they were limping, but it was so slight that, if they were in more normal surroundings with people bustling about and more noise to cover the sound of his steps, no one would notice. But in the absolute silence of the night it was obvious to him. He filed that away in his mind.

Up ahead, he saw a light that he could have sworn wasn't their just a moment ago. He quickly ducked into the shadows of the building next to him not caring that so far the only person around hadn't been able to see him. Said person also had moved into the shadows, his action mirroring Sam's to a tee. When he looked back at the light it was no more. The area was as dark as ever. Still he looked.

There!

Another movement and a slight glimmer. He held his breath as he watched, not wanting to be discovered. Then abruptly, a shadow quickly passed from one side of the street to the other and disappeared into the darkness there.

Someone else was here. Was it Dean? one of his minions?

It seemed that this other person was just as curious as he was. Sam followed, staying the shadows. He watched the person he was following more carefully. Stepping out into the street the person looked around himself and right at Sam to make sure he wasn't being followed. In that moment, in what little light there was from the moon above, Sam finally knew who he was following.

It was himself.

And from the way that his other self held his side as he turned to look around, he could tell that he was hurt far more than what a slight limp would indicate. Deciding the coast was clear, they rushed across the street and into a pitch black alley. It was a skinny passage. He couldn't even fully extend his arms when he tried. Only the sound of the footsteps in front of him guided him.

After a darkness that seemed to last forever and press down on him as if to slow him, he emerged on the other side. Peering into the street. he found that it was a cul-de-sac of sort with the road going to his left. He looked down that street and was surprised to see a light in the distance. If he squinted he could swear the building the light was in front of was white, just like a church.

It was deja vu. He had been here before, had seen this all before, but when?

Then, eyes open wide, he saw a arm seemingly come out from his chest reaching toward his other self. A body followed. Stunned, Sam stood there as the hand attached itself to the back of the shirt the other Sam was wearing and pulled him right through where he standing. Breaking himself from his frozen state he turned on the spot and stared into the dark alley not knowing what was going on.

There sounds of a struggle. Someone hitting the wall hard, a sharp exhale of air, flesh hitting flesh, something hitting the ground hard, and then heavy breathing.

He struggle to see what had happened, but nothing was revealed to him.

A sudden hiss came from the darkness then the sound of something rubbing against the ground as if something was sweeping away dirt or drawing something on the concrete. It was no use speaking out to get an answer. He would only get nothing in return. The next sound he heard after a few minutes had passed was the sound of something being dragged.

The other Sam emerged from the darkness seconds later, his right arm glistening int he dim light. _What that blood? Just what had he done? _

_Stupid girl,_ a voice echoed in his mind. _She can't stop me._

Sam froze. The voice sent shivers through him. Gone was the snarky tone he had grown used to. In it place was a dark sense of power and control. Most of all, something evil radiated in his wake as his other self continued on toward the end of the street ahead.

Just as Sam was about to follow, the light at the end of the street suddenly grew brighter as if it was a spotlight aimed right at them. He turned away from the bright light and finally saw just what he had done in the alley way. There was a blonde haired girl, her hair splayed out like a fan behind her, laying on the ground, blood falling down her forehead. She lay within a red circle, a five pointed star painted beneath her. What was even more disconcerting was the fact that, just for that brief moment of light, she had stared right at him. Not trough him, but at him, like she knew he was there.

"Sam," she whispered. "I'm only trying to help..."

In the darkness, she was quiet. Sam was already a fair distance away. How could he possibly hear her? This was a dream. He told himself firmly. He couldn't really help that girl. _Could he?_

Making his mind up, he followed after his other self, leaving the girl behind. He put any thoughts of her far back in his mind. They were now walking toward where the light had come from and in what seemed like the longest walk ever, they were at the front doors of a church. As he stood in front of those doors that Star Wars saying about having a bad feeling was all that was going through his mind.

In front of him, his other self stood still in front of the doors, but only for a moment. Moving abruptly, the other Sam threw out his hands and shoved the double doors open with a resounding bang. It was quite the entrance.

"Ah, dearest brother...You've finally arrived," came a loud voice from inside.

Sam stayed in the doorway as his other self walked toward the front of the church.

"Do you come to accept your fate? or to tempt it?" Dean asked standing from the pulpit.

As Dean walked around the pulpit and down the steps so he was on he same level as the other Sam, he noticed the body laying haphazardly against the wall between where Dean and his other self stood.

"Accepting fate would be..too predictable of me," the other Sam replied.

At the new voice in the room, the hunched over body started to move. Soon a head popped up and Sam saw who it was.

"Demon spawn!" John yelled out drunkenly, staring at the other Sam.

He was surprised at how desperate his father looked, like he hadn't had a decent meal or nights sleep in weeks.

Leaning heavily on the wall, John propped himself up and stood on unsteady legs. He walked toward the other Sam, a dark look in his eyes. Sam wished he could see the emotions going through his other self.

"You," his father spat out. "You pushed him to this." he said gesturing at Dean.

"Absolutely," Sam heard his other self say. "But not completely."

John frowned and tilted his head as if to study the boy in front of him.

"So cold," he muttered, before tackling him to the ground. The other Sam only laughed as he threw john off with ease into the wall on the other side of the church from where he had started. Picking himself off the ground gracefully, the other Sam stood once again, a dark aura of confidence surrounding him.

"I can hear what your pathetic excuse of a father is thinking," the other Sam spoke, his voice low and dangerous, "Just itching to get out and wrap his hands around my throat."

Dean smiled.

"You would like that wouldn't you," Dean replied, stepping closer to the other Sam.

"All the better to look into those eyes and see the pain in them," the other Sam taunted. "Pain that _I_ caused."

"Lets not get too prideful here," Dean said, "You can't get all the credit for that."

Sam just stood a the door not moving. He was watching himself talk with Dean, but a the same time it felt like he was watching two different people who just happened to look like them. He wished he was anywhere but here, doing anything other than watching this because he knew this could only end in tragedy. What little hope he held within his heart began to fade.

* * *

He smiled.

Sam was putty in his hands. It had taken many failures, this boy was beyond unpredictable, but here he was with a distraught and discouraged Sam Winchester. He could already feel his strength growing as the boy slowly gave up. All he had to do was make sure he continued to do so.

To do that, he would just need some time and since Sam wasn't going anywhere in his current imprisonment, he had plenty of that. It was a good thing that he was a very patient person. In his situation, others would have moved on. Not that he could move on if he wanted to. He was in a very unique, if precarious position. Failure was not an option if he wanted to continue to exist which he very much did.

Add to the whole complicated situation was another demon who was encroaching on what they thought was territory up for grabs. They wanted to have all the glory and that just wouldn't do. He hadn't worked this hard to be overlooked like that. Once he had Sam under control that would be his next target. For now, Sam was his focus.

Tapping into the boys psychic abilities, he amplified the signal, for lack of a better term, and sent out his feelers for what the future had to hold. Then, picking and choosing what would have the desired effect, he gathered up the desired bits of the future that he then warped and manipulated so that he could feed them back to Sam in his "visions" and complete the boys destruction. The truth was a necessary part of the whole equation. He couldn't make everything up. And truth be told, he didn't want to. All too often the truth was so much better and so much worse material to play with than he could have ever come up with on his own.

A soft nudge distracted him from his thoughts of victory.

_What have we here,_ he thought to himself.

The nudge became more persistent. He smiled to himself as what it was became clear to him.

_Gotta love the bond of two brothers._

He recalled how Sam had been able to use their bond both unknowingly and knowingly to send his brother visions. How could he have forgotten that? He smirked. He wasn't the only one. Sam didn't seem to remember either, otherwise he would've figured it all out by now.

That pesky pathway from one mind to another. That must of been how the other demon was able to know where he was even after they left Sam on the roadside. That must of been how the other demon was able to send Sam the message that had brought him to this dusty ghost town. But for all the information that had been shared, his existence had not been one of them. He truly was a phantom in Sam's mind, undetectable and unseen. He would have to be more careful though. Having sent such a pointed message to the other demon via the link, that demon was sure to come back stronger than ever to find out just what had sent it. Once it recovered of course, which bought him time. He would use that time to fortify Sam's mind. He couldn't have some rampaging force destroying Sam's mind before he could gain proper control of it.

There was another nudge. _Persistent are we? _He thought for a moment before coming to a glorious conclusion. He tweaked what he had gleaned from the future once again. He was gonna kill two birds with one stone tonight.

* * *

Dean blinked.

He was standing in the middle of a deserted dark street. Straight ahead of him was a small white building with a bright light hanging beside the open doors. From the looks of it, it was a church. He looked around himself in the darkness. From what he could piece together from the short glimpses he had gotten when the demon had let him, he was in Jerome, a town on a mountainside. Question was, was this real? Was he in control now or was this something else?

In the moments prior to opening his eyes to this new and sudden sight he had been following a trail.

As soon as the fireworks had erupted before him of random images and feelings he had been rightly shocked. But he a was a quick thinker. He realized that what he was seeing had nothing to do with him. And as soon as he realized that, he started analyzing where the memories were coming from and why. The deeper he looked the more the images narrowed down into a small stream flowing away from him. He followed and soon found a tunnel leading into darkness save for the light coming from the thin thread of memory. He was still in his head. He knew it because he could still feel the sensations of the outside world just as he had for the past few weeks when the demon was in control.

What ever was happening in his head, it had separated him, in a way, from the demon. He wasn't bound, or at least he didn't feel that way anymore. His mind was his once again. He didn't feel the demon watching his every move, or rather thought. It was caught up in what ever the stream of light was.

Here on the street, he still stood; lost in confused thoughts. Then, there was a loud sound that came from the church drawing his attention there. Curious, yet cautious Dean crossed the short distance.

The doors to the church were wide open. Inside, he spotted two people: Sam and...himself?

"So what do we do now?" the other Dean voiced. "The both of us...two powerful entities both working toward the same goal."

It chilled Dean to hear that the demon thought of Sam that way.

"Indeed," Sam said coldly. "But only one of us can rule until that goal is accomplished."

The darkness that Dean had sensed upon Sam's arrival had only grown since then. He could feel it even as he stood in the doorway watching.

"I take it you expect to be the one ruling over us all," the demon replied.

Dean couldn't see Sam's face, but he was sure Sam was smiling.

"Naturally," Sam said.

Demon Dean smiled back.

"Ah," he said raising an eyebrow. "But you don't seem to remember how you are expendable while I'm not...at least until the right time."

"My how you forget," Sam replied. "How do you think our master would feel if he found out that you killed Sam Winchester, his chosen vessel?"

Woah, vessel? For who? The only master he could think that they were talking of was Lucifer and that was not any comfort. Dean's eyes were wider than they had been just moments before.

Sam stood in shock. Vessel? Satan? That was the only master he could come up within the context of the situation. He would die before that happened; kill himself even.

* * *

"You would do good to bow before me," the other Sam said with authority. "I opened the doors so that you could escape hell."

A pang of guilt went through him at the reminder of what he had done.

"You can't just waltz in here and take control," not-Sam said. "You _will_ learn your place."

Dean started screaming in pain right then. The other Sam had not even lifted a hand. There was nothing being done to Dean that Sam could see that would be the cause of the screaming he heard. Then just as quick as it had come, Dean stopped screaming and slumped to the ground.

"That's a new one." Dean gritted out.

"This is the master's chosen vessel for a reason," the other Sam replied.

He sounded not at all adverse to being a vessel, something that Sam couldn't understand. What could possibly happen to him to make him not have a problem with that?

"Very clever of you," Dean said standing up. "But there is one colossal crack in your bullet proof plan."

"And just what is that?" the other Sam asked.

All was quiet for moment. Dean wonder just what the demon had up its sleeve. Then,

"Remember after you got out of the hospital on Christmas?"

* * *

Dean tilted his head. The change in tone was subtle, so subtle, but he recognized it. The demon had given up control, he was looking at himself. The demon was giving him a chance to get through to Sam. But why?

"You told me that nothing could ever make up for all the bad things you did, not even saving my life, remember?" Dean said, his voice pleading.

Sam said nothing.

"This is your chance," Dean said. "You move forward with this, you do what you came here to do tonight, you'll doom this whole world, millions of lives will be lost, and you will only have been used."

"Put a stop to this Sam," Dean said, "I'm begging you, if not for the sake of the world, do it for me."

In the ensuing silence following Dean's last statement, all was quiet. Then a short laugh that grew into an almost maniacal stream, burst from the other Sam's mouth.

* * *

Sam wanted to cry. Dean's plea had been so passionate, so heartfelt. There was the brother he had been missing all this time. And he only response was to laugh in his face?

"You're still operating on the belief that I still care about you," the other Sam said still laughing slightly. "You're even more naive than I thought."

Dean looked so hurt, it broke Sam's heart. He wanted to run over to his other self and punch the living daylights out of him. More than that thought, he wanted to yell out for the entire world to hear that he loved Dean and didn't want any part of this mess. But he knew no one would hear. He was powerless.

Abruptly, Sam was quiet. The laughter was no more. The other Sam fell to his knees as if he had been shot. Then a tiny voice so quiet it was almost nothing more than a whisper spoke.

"I wish I could believe you," the other Sam said. "But it's too late."

He noticed Dean take in a sharp breath.

"Sammy?" he said rushing forward dropping to his knees. "It's never to late; never."

Sam walked forward into the church in a daze. Gone was the cocky over confident persona that had been present just moments before. In its place was a beaten and broken boy, void of hope and resigned to his fate.

"I'm too weak," he whispered, sinking further into Dean's grasp. "I didn't figure it out soon enough."

Silent tears fell down Dean's cheeks as he shook his head in denial.

"Goodbye Dean," the other Sam said before his eyes slowly closed and his body went completely limp.

"No Sam," Dean said pulling him close. "Noooooo!"

* * *

Although he couldn't bare what he was seeing, he couldn't look away. Sam was dead in his other self's arms. He was now standing just feet away.

The other Dean sat on the ground rocking Sam back and forth in his arms. Then he paused for a moment, his head tilting slightly as he realized something. It was a habit Sam had told him gave him away every time he had an idea. He didn't have to wonder long at what that idea was.

Reaching down Sam's back and pulling his shirt up, Dean pulled out a nasty looking knife out of the waistband of his jeans. He contemplated the knife for a moment. It was the same knife that had killed that demon girl in the graveyard. As soon as Sam had plunged it into her stomach, she had lit up from within, screamed out in unearthly pain, and fallen to the ground dead.

Dean frowned as the realization of what the other Dean had in mind dawn on him. But no sooner had the thought came to him before the other Dean went flying backwards away from a suddenly alive Sam.

"He definitely won't be happy about this," Sam muttered picking himself up off the ground.

The other Dean groaned from the front of the church where he had landed. The knife was now laying on the ground just out of reach.

Sam walked up the isle toward Dean his eye on the knife.

"Thought you would just off yourself with that pretty little toothpick, eh?" Sam sounded murderous.

Dean threw himself toward the knife, but found himself frozen just as he was about to grab the knife.

Sam was almost within reach. Dean watched his other self struggle mightily to break the hold that was on him to no avail. His attention was so focused on the struggle for the knife that when an unexpected blur that rose from the pews and tackled the reawakened Sam to the ground, he nearly jumped.

In that moment, the other Dean, free from the hold placed on him, finally grasped the knife. Not daring to pause, not even to see what had happened to free him, he quickly plunged the knife into his chest.

Dean's eyes widened as he heard familiar voice screaming out faintly, echoing in the small church.

"Sammy?" he called out.

* * *

Sam cried out in denial as he watched Dean raise the knife up before stabbing himself with it. Tears blocked his vision and he had to look way to vanquish them. When he looked back at Dean, he was lying on the floor, his eyes still open and looking directly at him though not seeing him. The knife was firmly in his chest and had done its job.

He turned his attention away from Dean unable to look at his dead body, only to see his other self bash John's head onto the corner of the nearest bench repeatedly. Blood trickled down the side of his face and his eyes rolled in his head. He was no longer fighting back, his arms moved at his sides like rag doll. It was too much. He turned around and starting running.

He ran out of the church, and out into the dark of the night. Tears blinded him and his lungs burned for air, but still he ran. He was running from what he had seen but couldn't seem to run fast enough as the images flashed behind his eyes every time he blinked.

This time though, when he opened his eyes, he found himself back in the freezing cold of the cooler. He tried to move his hands and feet but found that they were restrained with leather straps.

He had to get out of here; he needed to run, to get as far away from here as possible. Not caring how he did it, he concentrated and pulled as hard he could against the straps. Not even a minute had passed before the straps abruptly snapped, freeing his appendages an allowing him to escape the bed.

As soon as his feet hit the floor, he had to lean against the bed to stay standing. He had no clue how long he had been here. His legs felt like jelly. Seconds passed before he had the strength to stand on his own. Though he was weak, determination slowly filled the gap. He found the stairs and quickly started up. He was slowly feeling more and more claustrophobic as time ticked away. The walls felt like they were closing in on him trying to swallow him up , trying to stop him from his escape. If only he could be outside, free of this prison.

Reaching the top of the stairs, he threw open the door and rushed out.

All was black. It seemed to be the only color this place was capable of being. Behind him, he heard the door shut with a click.

Suddenly it was too quiet.

* * *

One moment he had been standing in the church watching his father get bludgeoned to death the next he was being sucked back into his mind. He knew this because of the familiarity he felt and because of the lack of the stretched feeling that had been growing the longer he was away.

No longer were the images flashing around him. He was still himself. The demon wasn't listening or couldn't, he wasn't sure which it was.

"I know you're there," a voice called out. "Speak."

Dean didn't know what he was supposed to say. He was still thinking of all that he had seen from his journey into Sam's mind and what a mind it was.

"Speak!" the voice called out again, more urgent this time.

It seemed that the demon couldn't hear his thoughts anymore. Interesting.

"You shouldn't go running into someone elses head ya know," the demon voiced. "It's not natural."

Dean had to agree with that, but he didn't reply.

"You never know what you might catch," the demon said, trying to get a response from Dean.

That statement made him think about how he had gotten to Sam. If you could catch something from someone, didn't that meant you could give it too? What if Sam had sent whatever had separated him from the demon? What if it was some sort of demon disease? Was it to help or hurt him?

Dean stayed stubbornly quiet keeping his thoughts to himself, knowing it was driving the demon crazy.

"Fine, stay silent," the demon said finally. "I'll fix this, and when I do you'll know. Your brother-"

The demon was quiet all of a sudden. Then,

"Your brother is awake," it continued. "And on the move."

"How can you tell?" Dean asked out loud unable to restrain himself.

The demon smiled.

"The bond is still there," the demon replied. "It hasn't gone anywhere."

Dean frowned. Whatever had stopped the demon from reading his thoughts hadn't stopped it from being able to access Sam through the link. And while he wasn't quite sure what he thought of Sam right now good or bad, he knew that the demon was bad and he didn't want it anywhere near Sam. He would have to do something about this.

"It's playtime Dean," the demon informed him. "And perfect timing too. Your father is here looking for us, but even more, he's looking for Sam. Well at least his blood if you know what I mean. He's got his gun locked and loaded."

Dean would have thrown up his hands if he could. Perfect timing indeed.

* * *

It was a highly caffeinated John Winchester that entered the town limits of Jerome.

As soon as he had escaped Las Vegas he had found a place to clean himself up. No matter where he went, it wasn't normal for someone to be walking around in singed clothing, smelling of smoke, and being dirtier than a homeless man. So, to avoid the kind of attention that would bring, he went to the first motel on the side of the road that he came across.

It was there that he received another phone call from Dean, one he didn't even want to think about for the rest of his life. Dean had to be OK, he had to be.

Dean had pleaded for help, and help had just arrived.


	15. Chapter 15 How you see the world

**Chapter 15**

**How you see the world  
**

_Like a hurricane, it takes everything from me,_

_Wake me from this dream..._

_Plumb, Hang on_

* * *

**PRESENT**

All around him there was darkness. It was nothing new. He was walking down an all but black hallway, silently in the stillness of the night. He couldn't do anything as his body made its way toward the end of the hallway. He was simply a passenger; a person along for the ride. Never mind that it was his own body that was being commandeered without his permission. That didn't seem to matter to the demon that was controlling him and that was putting it nicely.

If he had thought that he was overconfident, the entity holding him hostage made him look like Mother Theresa. There was so much he knew about what was happening to him, what was going around him, and what would happen in the very near future, but nothing that would free him and remove the parasite that had taken over his body. Nothing would allow him to stop what would surely result in the destruction of the world. As time went on and the pieces of the puzzle had started to come together, the more anxious Dean became. The demon had very specific plans for his family and the plan did not end well for them at all.

In all his years, any talk of demons had all related to the yellow eyed demon. Never before had he ever thought of others like him out there. He had never thought about the specifics of how they existed either. Possession was a foreign concept. He wondered if the yellow eyed demon's host had faced a similar torture as what he was going through. His situation was giving him all sorts of new things to think about but no one to tell it all too. That frustrated him to no end.

"Sam," he heard his own voice call out. "Saaaammmmmy."

As if he wasn't feeling low enough, hearing his brother's name being called out, sunk him even lower.

Of course Sam would come to his aid. He dreaded and expected as much. He knew that if the tables were turned he would be the same way. But that didn't stop him from hating the loyalty they had to each other. It had gotten them both nearly killed too many times to count especially recently. What made him all the more miserable was the fact that he was afraid that this was one situation that they wouldn't be getting out of alive. He fought all the harder to take control of his body, but just like his previous attempts, nothing happened. He merely watched the darkness pass by him.

"I know you're here Sammy," his voice taunted. "Come out and play with me baby brother."

No matter how hard he fought, he couldn't seem to gain any ground and soon he was too exhausted to fight anymore. He could only watch through his own eyes as the demons plan slowly unfolded all around him. This was almost worse than not being able to see a thing. Ever since the attack on the demons mind that had come from Sam, him and the demon had become equal entities within the same body.

Before, the demon had held the upper hand, regulating him to the background and only bringing him out to further cement the advantage it had over him. But now the tables were turned. If only he get control...

"Sammy," he heard his voice call out again, "Or should I call you Samantha for hiding out in a kitchen?"

Maybe Sam wasn't here after all, but still lying in the cooler? He could only hope. His body walked onward through the darkness, turning around what he could only guess was a counter top. Just feet in front of him, he could barely make out the shape of someone crouching down. It was Sam. He just knew it. There was nothing he could do as his body crept up closer to Sam until he was just inches away, his warm breath breathing down Sam's neck.

"Hiya Sammy boy," his voice said, "Got ya."

The pan came out of nowhere and hurt like hell. By the time he got it together enough to pay attention to what was going on around him, he was no longer in the dark room with Sam. He was walking down a dark hallway. Up ahead he heard a loud crash.

"Not playing nice Sammy?" his voice drifted through the hall. He was getting closer.

Unexpectedly, he heard himself curse as his body tripped over something in dark. It was a cart, like the kind that cleaning ladies in motels have. His body quickly regained its balance and took off even more determined it seemed. He turned a corner and saw Sam headed for the front entrance. Silently he cheered Sam on, willing him to escape before his body caught up with him.

"I see you," his voice taunted.

Sam didn't even turn around, he just ran.

"Sam!" his voice called out.

Dean silently continued cheering Sammy on while wishing his captor nothing but hell.

"It's not over yet sweetheart," his lips whispered with a smile.

Outside the door, he saw a figure that literally stopped his heart.

"Dad!" he called out. He was surprised to find that the words he had thought had come out of his mouth. But before he could say anything more, control was wrested away from him again.

"Not so fast hotshot," his voice whispered tauntingly.

His body burst out the front doors and chased after his father. In the distance he could see his dad running like the madman he was.

"You won't hurt Dean again!" his father yelled out, lifting his shot gun from his side and taking aim at Sam.

Dean could do nothing as the gun shots ripped through the air, terror gripping his heart. His body ran faster as he saw Sam fall to the ground. He could see his dad kicking Sam. How dare he! From his vantage point he could barely make out Sam's face, but from what he could see, Sam looked completely broken, but was still alive. He wished Sam would do something, anything, even if he had to resort to his freaky powers; anything to stop their dad; anything to stay alive. He remembered how tenuous Sam's desire to live was and he hoped against hope that Sam wouldn't give up now.

He watched as his dad dropped his gun suddenly as if it was too hot to handle. Beneath his father's gaze, Sam let out a cry of pain as his struggled to move away. Dean couldn't bear to watch, but at the same time couldn't help it. Watching Sam now, it was hard to comprehend how Sam could transform into the person he had seen when he had entered Sam's mind. Remembering the cruel and cocky incarnation of Sam made him remember the part about Sam being a vessel. With his new found knowledge of how demons worked, the term brought shivers to his body and that wasn't even the worst part. Sam was supposedly a vessel, and not just to any old demon, but to the father of all demons. It had to be a dream, it just had to be. If only what he was witnessing before him in the present reality was a dream.

"You'll have to do more than that to get away from me alive," John said gruffly.

His father was out of his mind. Dean wished he could tackle the man and pound some sense into him before taking off and never seeing him again, but luck was not on his side. He watched Sam's lips move. Straining his ears, he barely could make out what his brother was saying.

"Please," he heard Sam whisper futilely. "Everything isn't as it seems."

Did he know? Dean could hardly hope.

But that hope quickly was replaced by doubt. If Sam knew, why didn't he do anything to stop it in the version of the future that had played in his head?

"Dean's not right," Sam fought out.

Sam had that right.

"You're the one who's not right," John said.

His body moved forward, closer to the pair in front of him.

"Let's see you tell Dean to his face that he's not right in the head," John said viciously.

In all his years, Dean had never heard the venom that was spewing from his father's mouth. He thought he had seen his father at the height of his anger, but he was so very wrong. How he wished that anger was directed at anyone other than Sam. Sam didn't need this. Not after everything he had been through, that he was still going through.

Just hold on little brother, he thought desperately then everything went black.

* * *

_Just hold on little brother._

"Dean?" Sam asked, bringing a hand up to his face and rubbing his tired eyes. The action sent a fiery jolt of pain up his arm and garnered a hiss from his mouth.

"He's awake," a feminine voice called out.

Sam opened his eyes, suddenly awake.

"Hi there," the voice addressed him.

Sam was speechless. It was the girl from the gas station, the one who had given him the bus ticket to Oklahoma.

"You," he mouthed.

She nodded quietly and tilted her head. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out. She tried several more times before simply leaving the room in silence.

Sam was left confused; a headache slowly growing as well.

Where was he? And who was that girl? There was something about her; something familiar beyond just seeing her again that he couldn't quite place. Shaking his head, he looked around at his surroundings. He was lying on a small cot in what looked to be the main room of a small house or cabin judging by the log walls. The place looked fairly harmless, but Sam was too far gone to let himself relax. Nowhere was safe and he wasn't sure if there would ever be a place where he could ever truly feel safe again. It was the cost of dealing with demons, murderous family members, and living on the run.

He pushed himself up and winced as he jolted his arm. Memories of his father mercilessly shooting him floated to the top of his mind. It seemed he was always getting hurt and by his own family no less. He looked at his leg. It was bandaged and wrapped, neat and tidy. His arm was the same. While a part of him was thankful for the safety and kindness he had apparently found, the other more influential part of him was severely distrustful and itched to be free of this constricting room and the girl who had apparently saved him. No matter how well he had apparently been taken care of, he couldn't let himself get too comfortable. Goodwill had become foreign to him. He couldn't think of why a person would want to be nice to him, for the simple sake of being nice.

What he had seen in his vision came flooding back to him. Dean had killed himself while he himself had killed their father. Images of Dean stabbing himself repeatedly played through his head over and over again, overlaid with the memory of watching himself bash his dads head against a church bench.

It was too much. Too much blood; too much suffering. He was suffocating.

Not quite knowing what he was doing, he pushed himself up and off the bed standing up unsteadily. Every time he blinked, the images flashed before him.

Traitor! A voice called out.

Sam turned around himself quickly trying to see who had spoken.

_Lucifer's vessel!_

His breathing was getting heavy. His heart was starting to race. He pushed through the pain and rushed as fast as he could out of the room just to get away from the voices.

_You're going to destroy the world!_

_Traitor!_

Once out in the hallway though, he couldn't move any further. He saw the door, but couldn't make himself move toward it. The more he saw his dads head hit the pew, the more he wanted to hit his own head against something, anything hard, just to make it stop. Not only that, but his physical injuries were nagging him now catching up to his frazzled mind. The distractions of his own mind and body kept him from noticing the sound of someone cocking a gun.

"Turn around boy, and do it slowly," a gruff voice ordered.

Sam did as he said. Upon seeing the gun pointed at him, a small smile came over his face.

"Shoot me," he said quietly, pain lacing his words. "Make it stop."

* * *

Dean was helpless and hopeless as he watched his body move around without his control. Even worse, he hated how his body walked so comfortably next to his father. He couldn't stand being so close to a man who had so willingly hurt his own child, let alone tried to kill said child. He had always thought that Sammy was his father's favorite with the way that his dad had always ordered him to watch out for his younger brother at all times. Whenever his dad had come back from a hunt, he always checked on Sam first, then Dean. When Sam had gotten hurt or into any sort of trouble, his dad had always blamed him for it and looked down on him for it.

He knew Sam thought differently. Sam no doubt saw Dean as being the perfect son as far as their father was concerned. Sam had thrown those words back at their father so many times that Dean couldn't even hope to count them on both of his hands and feet. If only Sam saw it all from his perspective.

But it seemed that all this talk of favorites was null and void. As it turned out, his father had merely been waiting for Sam to go bad. He knew of what had happened to Sam that night in his brothers nursery. He had known so much more than he had ever revealed to them. With nothing else to do during his incarceration and the vast knowledge of the demon inhabiting his body, he had gone over everything that had happened to them ever since thanksgiving with a fine tooth comb. What he had put together made him sick. And now he had even more to think about with what he had seen in Sam's head. He just hadn't had anytime between then and now to go over it.

With the arrival of his father he was in full blown panic mode. He was playing right into the demons plans and there was no way to warn him, to stop him.

"How are you so sure that we are safe right now?" his father questioned.

"Thank the tourists," he replied. "You can't expect to take over a town without no one from the outside world noticing."

"Just how long have you been here?" John asked.

The demon sighed.

"Too long," his voice answered. "I'm tired dad."

He watched as his dad fell for the whole act hook line and sinker. He had thought his dad the best hunter that ever existed; a superhero. But now, he saw the man as a complete failure. If he couldn't tell that his own son was being possessed by demon, no matter how clever the demon, then surely he wasn't worthy of the title of father. His actions with Sam were evidence on their own of his dad's failure as a parent. The man had it all so wrong. Good was bad and bad was good now.

But no matter how much he hated his father right now, there was so much more at stake. He had to get through to him; he had to make him understand before the situation became irreversible and the world as they knew it was doomed. He also needed to get his dad to see that Sam was not the enemy, that he was as much a victim in all of this as they were. He had to do this before Sam was pushed beyond the point of no return. If what he had seen was true and Sam was a vessel for Lucifer, they couldn't afford to loose him now. But more than that_ he_ couldn't loose Sam. Not now, not ever.

"So what now Dean?" his father asked.

Dean did an internal double take. Did his dad just ask him what their next move was? Could this get any worse?

"We have to lay low until night fall," his mouth replied. "Sam will be back. Now that he knows you're here with me he won't be able to resist."

John nodded in acceptance.

His coat pocket suddenly started vibrating. He felt his hand reach in and pull out a phone. There was a short text message on the screen.

_I'll be running late._

There was no signature.

His father looked at him curiously.

"Just a girl I've been working with," the demon answered. "She knows this place better than anyone. She's been helping me find Sam."

"You can trust her?" John asked a skeptical glint in his eyes.

"As much as I can trust anyone these days," the demon answered. "She's been dead useful these past few weeks. I wouldn't have been able to track Sam without her."

Inside, Dean was fuming. The girl of whom she spoke of was as evil as they came. He didn't trust her at all and wished her nothing but a painful death, preferably at his own hand. He wanted her to suffer for all that she had done in getting Sam to this place at this time. He only hoped that Sam would be able to see past her sweet exterior for the demon she really was.

* * *

"Shut your trap," a gruff voice answered him, putting the gun down. "If i'd have wanted you dead you wouldn't be standing there. Now get yourself off that leg. You shouldn't even be standing."

The images in his mind stopped only to replaced by others. He remembered shooting this man in cold blood and leaving him for dead.

"You're supposed to be dead," Sam said frowning.

"Good thing I ain't" the man replied. "Now sit your behind back on the bed here before you fall over."

With a shaky voice Sam spoke.

"I…I don't even remember…your name," he said, his voice a mere whisper.

"You obviously remember shooting me full of buckshot though," the man remarked.

"I…I…" Sam was speechless and lost. What could he say to the man that could possibly make up for what he done?

The man harrumphed at him.

"I don't need any apologies," the man interrupted. "What's done is done."

"How-"

"Jess!" the man shouted. "Get him back in bed; the stubborn oaf will fall over any minute now."

Sam didn't even have time to think as the blonde girl from before rushed from behind the man and to his side. She practically dragged him back into the room he had woken up in and plunked him down on the bed within seconds.

"You really do need to stay put," she said sitting beside him on the bed.

Sam could only look at her strangely after the way that she had maneuvered him to his current spot so easily.

"The names Daniel Elkins," the man explained, walking into the room. Taking a seat in a chair next to the door, he looked at Sam critically.

Sam watched him with guarded eyes. He was doing his best to concentrate on what was going on, but he suddenly felt so tired that he was starting to zone out.

"You're quite the survivor," Daniel said. "Still going."

Sam blinked and refocused.

"Bobby told me I had to find you," Daniel said, "Couldn't say it enough."

"Is he...ok?" Sam asked sluggishly. He hadn't thought of Bobby at all since he had last seen him. Some friend he was.

"He's still…alive, right?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"He'll be fine...eventually," Daniel answered.

Sam didn't dare ask what he meant by that. He didn't think he would be able to take it.

"Point is," Daniel said. "We got a major demon to take out."

Sam raised his eyebrows at that.

"Surprised?" Daniel said disbelievingly. "Bobby told me everything he knew about you and what happened after I was shot; don't you dare tell me that you're not aware that an extremely high level demon is possessing your brother right now."

Sam just sat there unable to comprehend it. Memories flashed through his head at lightning speed of all the strange things that he should have put together. It all made sense. Daniel was right. How in the world could he not know?

Daniel was talking again, but he wasn't listening. All he could think about was what a huge epic failure he was if he couldn't spot something that was so obvious, especially with everything he had been through so very recently. He'd been around demons, been in their heads, used them and even killed them with his mind. The only thing he hadn't done was be possessed by one. This was too much to take.

"Stop," he said, turning away. "I can't...just...please just go."

He laid down on the bed and turned his back to the other two, not seeing the worried look coming from Daniel, but more so from the girl.

"I have to go," she told Daniel.

He nodded.

"Do what you have to," he said as she passed out of the room.

* * *

His dad was eating as if he hadn't eaten for weeks. The food wasn't even that good. Just some nearly stale bread and a piece of meat slapped between. It was both sad and sickening to watch for him which was saying a lot as he didn't have the best standards or manners to be judging anyone at all.

So far, the demon had taken them on a tour of the building. It was very informational for him. He tucked away the knowledge of the floor plan in his mind for later. The demon had also introduced all the 'special' kids to John. Of course, he hadn't mentioned that they were special, just that they were helping him. Their story was that they were residents of the town and were hiding out when Dean arrived. The fact that this was a tourist town and that anyone just getting out of high school, as the special kids were, would want to skip this town as fast as they could, seemed lost on John.

A door opened causing the demon to stand up from his chair. It was a tall blond headed girl.

"So?" the demon asked.

The girl was gorgeous and in another time he would have been all over her, but her beauty was only a guise. The thing within was far from being a beauty pageant contestant. She was a demon and she had been the one to send the text earlier. He watched as she filled the demon in on how her mission was going.

"He's still out like a light right now," the young woman said finally. "He wouldn't speak when he first woke."

The girl spoke with little emotion as she listed off the details. She was as emotionless as a brick wall.

He felt his face smirk at the news.

"Makes you wonder how he managed to kill off Azazel if he can't handle his own father," the demon said to the girl.

The other girl just stood there looking bored.

"Don't worry," the demon said. "You'll get your slice of the action soon enough. Just watch for a little longer."

"As you wish," the girl said.

But the words came out differently this time. There was an emotion there that he couldn't quite identify and a light in her eyes that told him so much more than she let on.

She was a tricky one.

* * *

Reviews? Please? :P


	16. Chapter 16 The perfect con part 1

**Chapter 16**

**The Perfect Con Part 1  
**

_There's a side to to you that I never knew _

_All the things you said that were never true _

_And the games you played you would always win..._

_Adele, Set fire to the rain_

* * *

He didn't know how long he laid there lost in his thoughts, staring at nothing. A part of him wanted to go out right then and there and rescue Dean, but the other more dominate side of him told him he'd never be strong enough to do that in his current condition. The most he could hope for right now if he were to go back to Dean was a quick death from his father. These thoughts and more paralyzed him, keeping him from moving. The epic hugeness of his failure to recognize what was going on right in front of his eyes ate at him. All the things he should have noticed in Dean were playing over and over in his mind.

In his mind he could see Dean. His soft, kind eyes looked at him every time he closed his eyes.

_"Help me Sam," _Dean pleaded.

If only he had listened and sought harder to understand what Dean was saying in that diner parking lot. Instead he had crumbled in self-doubt as the demon had retaken control of Dean and slammed him into the brick wall. But Dean was a fighter, and hurting himself hurt his little brother was not something he could willingly watch and not do something about.

_"You have to help me Sam,"_ Dean said, his voice sincerely begging him once more.

But how could he? Sure he had ripped demons from their hosts and even outright killed them, but that didn't bode well for Dean. He had never cared if the hosts would live and therefore never practiced doing that. No way would Dean be his first test subject. But above all of that, just using his powers in the first place was a no go for him. Using them was the first step down a slippery slope that he would rather not slide down again. Just thinking about using his abilities made him sick.

_"You're a monster Sam,"_ Dean had said once, _"A monster."_

He didn't want to be a monster.

_"What kind of person would dam their brother to the hell that being possessed is? I think you need to redefine your definition of what a monster is,"_ the voice in his head said suddenly.

It had been a while since he had heard that voice in his head, not since the day he first arrived in this town. He had almost forgotten it existed in the first place.

_"You can't escape me Sammy,"_ the voice replied, _"I'll always be here, you can't run from me."_

While those words would have reassured him in the past, now they simply left him feeling worse for having heard them.

_"I'm going to make it all better,"_ the voice said.

"How?" Sam said bleakly. He couldn't think of any possible solution to this mess that would be better in any way. The only people he had on his side were Daniel, the girl Jess, and his broken self.

_"Don't you worry your pretty little head,"_ the voice told him. _"All you need is to rest up for a little bit, I'll take care of the rest."_

He suddenly became very tired and couldn't resist the call of sleep.

* * *

Night was falling outside the window as he stared out of it listlessly. The people out in the streets, not too long ago had all began to head into various buildings and now there was hardly anyone out there. He turned away from the window. The room he was in was filled with the stereotypical western decor that was typical of tourist spots in this town. It had been the same no matter what building he was herded into.

He stood up and went over to his bed.

There was nothing to do here; nothing but wait. He sat down and fell backwards onto the bed. They were all being kept separate from each other, they had been told, so that they could each be specifically trained with in their own special abilities. Personally he thought it was because they would kill each other if left in the same room.

So far his training had included being ambushed by countless numbers of possessed town people who all held strength that, at first glance, they didn't seem capable of. He had used his own strength to best them every time. What the point was, was beyond him. He had simply kept his head down, done what was asked, or rather forced upon him and not objected or fought back in any way. Running away was always in his mind, but he knew, somehow, that he would never make it far. He always felt watched, even in the solitude of his room.

The door opened quietly. He sat up quickly. It was the blond girl. Jess was her name. She shut the door behind her and came over to him, sitting next to him on the bed.

"It won't be long now," the girl said. "Sam knows what he needs to do now."

He had heard so much about this Sam from the girl during their daily meetings, yet he had never met him or seen what he looked like. If you asked their leader, Dean, Sam was their number one target, but not to kill; capture. He was crucial to the overreaching plans of the demon, yet it was never explained why and Jess had never elaborated either. According to her, Sam was going to be the one to put an end to all of this and get them all back to normality. That was something he could get behind.

That and everyone on this side of the battle were barking, out of their minds, crazy. Save for Jess. She hadn't shown any freaky tendencies and had only expressed how she wanted to help stop what was happening around them. Beyond that though, he knew nothing about her or why she was so adamant about stopping it all. She had given him short answers here and there about how she needed to repay someone and how the world would end if they didn't stop the head demon. He hadn't pushed further than that. He trusted her. But it still didn't stop the curiosity.

"Last night," he asked. "What was all that?"

All had been silent, then there were shots fired and yells thrown around, then it had become silent once more. He hadn't been able to see much from his window except for some shadow running away into the darkness.

"That was Sam," Jess answered." He escaped."

"He was here?" he asked surprised.

He hadn't known that. That explained why the demon seemed distracted lately in the few times he had been able to see him.

"Curiosity is a dangerous thing Jake," Jess told him looking him in the eye. "That's why I didn't tell you."

That put him out a bit. But if Sam was the good guy in all of this; why the warning?

"I know what you're thinking," Jess said.

He couldn't argue with that. She always knew, no matter what.

"Sam is..." she paused. "Volatile right now."

He didn't know what to make of that.

"Just think of it this way, "Jess said, "His dad just tried to kill him, His brother is possessed, and his abilities are driving him mad, not to mention-"

He waved a hand.

"I get it," he said, but really he just didn't want to hear any more of it. It was not exactly heartening to hear that the person who was supposed to save them all was out of his mind. The part about his abilities driving him mad was especially worrying to him.

"You needn't worry so much," Jess said. "Your powers are more physical than anything. When you involve the mind, that's when things get tricky."

There were a few moments of silence in which he studied Jess. She seemed worried. Well more so than he had seen previously.

"What are you thinking?" he asked.

She closed her eyes.

"I'm missing something," she answered.

"About?" he prodded.

She shook her head and stood up suddenly.

"I have to go," she said abruptly.

"Be ready," she said looking at him seriously. "Things are moving ahead faster than I thought."

* * *

Their little hideout was on the very edge of what could legally still be called Jerome. It was a ways off the main road into town off a deserted dirt road, not quite hidden or secluded in any special way, yet it didn't draw attention to itself the way other structures did in the area. It was a simple building: a single story, rather plain looking log cabin. It belonged to a friend of a friend of Daniel's who owed him a favor.

She didn't really know what to expect. All she knew was that something had changed with Sam, more so than at any time before. In all the weeks she had been following him, she had grown attuned to his special signal if you will. Because of the demon blood running through him he was rather easy to tune into.

From the moment she opened the front door, the first thing she noticed was how quiet it was. She had been expecting to hear the sound of talking or at least some sort of movement from Daniel. The old man didn't like to sit too still for too long.

Walking past the front room, she looked into the kitchen. Seeing no one there, she walked on toward the bedrooms further on. When she peeked into the room where she had last seen Sam, her heart dropped. She moved looked into the bathroom. Finding nothing there, she moved onto the last room in the house Dread filled her upon the sight that greeted he there. Daniel was laying on the bed as if he had been sitting on the edge and simply fallen backwards onto the bed. Rushing up to him and taking his vitals, she found he was just sleeping.

_Where was Sam?_

Slightly apprehensive, she shook Daniel.

He was slow to wake, which was strange to her. The last time she had tried waking him, she had nearly been shot. She had to admit it was with good reason though. That had been the first time they had met and he had just woken from a coma in a hospital. She had no choice. If she had waited until he was out, then she would never have made past his many protections and would never have been able to reason with him.

Reasoning had been hard to do especially because she didn't even really know what she was doing or why she was even where she was. Those first few days had been so confusing and there still were days like that now but she had a better handle on things and was coping much better. After the demon that was currently possessing Dean had found her and so brazenly recruited her once it knew for sure who it was speaking to, she had come up with her own plans. She had tried Bobby first, but he was too out of it to be of any use to her or anyone at all.

But Daniel...as soon as he was awake, he was raising hell and bugging the crap out of the nurses to get out. She would have liked to think it was because of the things she had told him about the Winchester's and how they needed his help, but she knew it was more his phobia of hospitals in general that was his motivation.

"What happened?" he asked groggily.

She helped him to sit up and then took a seat next to him.

"What's the last thing you remember?" she asked.

His eyes scrunched up as he struggled to remember.

"Sleepy..." he answered. "All of a sudden, I just felt so...sleepy."

If she was ever going to know what really happened she needed to see into his mind. As unobtrusively as she was capable of, she touched his mind, but recoiled almost immediately.

Sam had done this. But it wasn't pure Sam. His essence was tainted.

It was a familiar taint too.

"We gotta find Sam," she said turning to still thinking Daniel.

That got his attention.

"How could he have left?" he said. "You saw him earlier, he couldn't even stand up straight."

She stood up.

"I think we have another player on the board Daniel," she answered.

"Human or demon?" he asked becoming more aware by the minute.

"Demon."

"Crap."

* * *

When Sam next awoke it was to a very strange feeling.

He could feel his body moving, but...he wasn't making it move; if that made sense. How did that work? He focused on the sights in front of him. He was back in the town, crossing across a street, toward the very building he had barely just escaped. While conflicted about what he wanted to do about this all, he definitely didn't want to come back here so soon. Futilely he struggled to stop his body from the progress it was making toward the double doors but only a cruel laughter met his efforts.

_"Sammy boy,"_ the voice echoed in his head. _"Rejoining the party I see."_

Sam tried to stop his body once more, but was unsuccessful.

"Party for who?" he asked.

He felt his mouth smile.

"You really don't want to know the answer to that Question Sammy," he heard his voice answer out loud.

Sam was getting angrier by the second.

"Let me back!" he yelled. "This is my body!"

"Does it look like I care?" his voice answered him. "What yours is mine now."

"Get used to it." his voice said coldly.

Sam silently fumed. He could only watch as he pushed open the doors and walked into the building. There were no lights and since the sun was setting outside, it was all but dark inside. A fierce stubbornness was building in him. He did not like this situation at all and he was going to do something about it.

"What are you going to do?" he asked his voice steady.

"What you have proven yourself incapable of doing," his voice answered.

"Meaning?" he asked pushing the voice.

"I'm going to out this demon back in its place, show it whose boss."

"And what of my brother?" he asked.

"What of him?" his voice asked.

"You're going to free him aren't you?" he asked.

He felt himself smirk.

"In a way I suppose," the voice said with a tilt of his head.

He would have narrowed his eyes if he was in control of his body. He did not like that answer at all. It was very...demon like.

_Demon like..._

The words repeated over and over in his mind.

"Sammy boy," he heard his voice call out. "Given up all ready? I would have figured that that answer would have spurred on your inquisitive mind."

_Sammy boy..._

There was a reason he hated that phrase. There only ever was one person who had called him that: Azazel, the yellow eyed demon.

"Why does this demon bother you so much?" he asked. It all was coming together now.

"The answer is all in the glory Sammy," his voice replied. "She wants what is rightfully mine, what I have worked so hard for. She just wants to take all the credit for my hard work."

"Your hard work?" he asked innocently.

He felt himself stop.

"I never would have thought you bold enough to walk right up to me like this," another voice spoke in the darkness.

Suddenly he could move again and just as suddenly, he could feel pain again. It wasn't nearly as bad as before, but it was still there.

"Dean?" he questioned.

Out of nowhere a hand reached out, grabbed him by the neck, and raised him off the ground like he was a rag doll.

"Samuel Winchester."

It was Dean's voice but it was wasn't him speaking.

"You come to stop me," the demon stated with a smirk. There was a silence for a moment.

"You're...different now," the demon said curiously.

Sam was in no position to reply.

"Hiding," the demon said. "Whoever you really are, you're hiding."

The demon seemed to be searching him for something.

"I still sense you," the demon said. "I know you're in there."

He heard a laugh.

"And to think that I thought you were special in and of yourself," Dean's voice said derisively. "All you really are is a glorified meat suit."

Abruptly the demon threw against him the hall wall, watching him slide down it limply. All he could do was catch his breath. He didn't have the presence of mind to stop his descent to the floor. His hands were heavy at his sides.

_Glorified meat suit..._

He was just a pawn in these demons quest for power, another rung in the ladder for them to climb. The only thing keeping him alive it seemed was the fact that he was to be possessed by Satan himself. Why it had to be him was beyond his understanding. If only he knew just what they had to do, what they were planning...

"Let's see what it takes to get you out of hiding," Dean's voice sounds above him. "Can't have any unknown players on the board tonight."

Suddenly he was being picked up by two sets of hands and dragged down the hallway.

* * *

Daniel was a stubborn man.

She had told him to stay behind. But he had simply walked out the door leaving her to run after him. She had tried her best to tell him that this fight was beyond his capability to fight and that he would only get himself needlessly killed. He had only given her a hard look. She had even resorted to calling him out on the fact that his main specialty was hunting vampires, not demons, especially not high level ones, but that had gotten nothing out of him. They were now walking through the darkening desert on a path they had found when they first got here, that lead to the town in a less obvious way than following the main road. The only drawback was that it took longer to get into the town. That's why she had not taken it when she had to reach Daniel quickly.

"Why don't you just tell me what's going down tonight," Daniel said gruffly, his stare challenging her to tell him one more time to stay behind.

"I suppose she's taking the first step tonight," she answered.

"The demon?" Daniel asked.

She nodded.

"This will only be the warm up though," she further explained. "Small potatoes compared to what she'll do in the end."

"And this first step," Daniel said, "Gets the apocalypse started?"

"It will depend on a lot of factors, but we don't want to test any of them," she answered.

"You're like Spock with how cryptic you speak," Daniel said sounded annoyed. "Does the word English mean anything to you?"

She rolled her eyes.

"Knowing the details won't make it any easier to stop," she replied. "What we need to do is make sure that Sam is ready to stop this."

"That kid has been through the ringer," Daniel stated shaking his head. "Why he would care to stop this all after everything he's been through..." he trailed off.

"That's...what makes him so special," she said.

Daniel stared at her for a long moment.

"I know you say that you were assigned to follow Sam all this time and make sure he ended up here and that's why you know him as well as you do, but it just seems like...there's more to it than just...that."

There was silence between them. In her mind she felt a shift.

"Something's happening," she said suddenly her pace increasing. "Lilith has Sam."

Daniel had to jog to keep up with her.

"Wait a moment," Daniel said. "Lilith? as in Adam's first wife?"

"That's just one first," she answered. "She's Lucifer's first as well...his first demon."

Daniel was stunned silent.

"She's top of the food chain," she continued on. "Very few could challenge her."

"And you expect that half dead Winchester boy to do her in?"

"He's certainly going to try," he said quickly. "Especially since she's possessing Dean."

"What's next? You going to tell me that John Winchester's been possessed all this time too?"

"For Sam and Dean's sake I wish he was," she answered. "It would make moving on easier for everyone."

"Assuming we all get out of this alive," Daniel added.

She smiled a little.

"There is that," she said.

They were quiet for a few minutes.

"What's the plan?" Daniel asked.

"We have to find out where Sam is," she answered.

"And how am I going to help there?" Daniel asked.

"I told you to stay behind," she said. "You can still turn back."

"You ever see Star Wars?" Daniel asked.

She looked at him curiously.

"Never mind," he said at her look. "Take me in as your…prisoner of sorts."

"And then what?" she asked. "You'll be tortured. She needed Sam and he still got tortured. Just imagine what she'll do to you."

"It'll get her to trust you so you can get close to Sam."

She thought it over for a few moments.

"if this is what you want," she said finally, "Then I won't send you in defenseless."

She had stopped. Daniel stopped too as soon as he noticed. She reached a hand out and put it on his forehead. After a few minutes, she let go and started walking again. Daniel followed confused.

"What did you do?" he asked her.

"It's better is you don't know," she answered.

Resolved to the cryptic way in which she always seemed to speak, he didn't push her any further about it.

The rest of their walk was completed in silence.


	17. Chapter 17 The perfect con part 2

**Chapter 17**

**The Perfect Con Part 2**

_I wish I knew what you were looking for,_

_I might have known what you would find..._

_Sia, Under the milky way_

* * *

He had to do something.

They were in a small windowless room. There was a table in the far corner with things on it he didn't even want to imagine what they could possibly do. Blood stained the walls. It was just him, the demon, and Sam.

Currently Sam was strung up by chains that hung from the ceiling and attached to clasps around his wrists. The boy's wrists were red and raw. A trickle of blood dripped down both his arms. His head hung down in front of him limply.

The only reason he knew that Sam was still with them and not lost to unconsciousness was steady stream of images flowing from his head through the bond they shared.

He had to stop this. This was, to put it in brutally honest terms, rape. The demon was searching for something and didn't care how it got it. It seemed the demon was sure that someone else in Sam's head, that he was possessed somehow. But so far, nothing had been found to prove anything. The only thing he was sure of was that this was hurting Sam more than any physical torture could ever hope to. It was something he felt more than he saw and was something he couldn't bear to let continue any longer.

He had to shut down that connection. The bond between them was going to be the death of Sam. He needed to turn it off somehow so the demon couldn't have a direct path right into Sam central.

While a demon could still look into a mind without there being a bond between them, add a bond like theirs and it was everything for the taking. Compare it to dipping a toe into the sea, to diving head long into a kiddie pool.

Determined to do something to end this torture for Sam, he retreated in his mind and found where the path was that lead to Sam. It was all very new age to him thinking about bonds and being an abstract being in a reality that was inside his head. But with the life they led and the things they hunted, he supposed he really shouldn't be surprised at this point by the things he experienced.

He sent a quick, but heart felt "I'm sorry" through before he imagined a large sword appearing in his hands. Like magic when he opened his eyes, a large sharp sword ad materialized. His mind, his rules. He raised the sword and then brought it down on the shimmering thread.

Each thrust frayed the bond. The more it frayed the more his emotions began to go haywire and those of Sam too that he could still sense. Physically he heard Sam's screams. Emotionally, he felt the pain Sam was in. He only hoped this would be worth it in the end.

Fierce anger began to envelop him, but it was not his own. The demon had stopped its pillaging of Sam's mind the moment it noticed just what he was trying to do. But try as it might, the demon seemed to have no ability to stop him from hacking away. Whatever Sam had sent through before, had separated the demon and him real good. Though they were still in the same body, the demon couldn't read his mind like it used too and now, couldn't lock him away.

With a final impact, the thread snapped. He was left reeling at the pain he felt from the separation. Not a physical pain, it was emotional like someone had torn open a huge whole in his very being. He felt as if he had lost a part of himself, like he wasn't whole anymore.

He had never felt so alone either. He had thought he knew what it felt like to be alone, but he was wrong. Never had he realized just how much of a presence Sam was in his life, or his mind. Now he understood how he seemed to always to know just what Sam needed and what he was feeling to a certain degree. He had just always thought that that had come from knowing each other so well and being around each other practically 24/7. It was so much than that as he knew now.

It was like that saying: _you never know what you have until you lose it._

* * *

The hallway was pitch-black but Jess seemed to be able to find her way with no trouble at all. Soon they came to a stop. He heard knocking and then a door opened, light spilling out into the hall.

An agitated looking Dean greeted them.

"I found him on the outskirts of town," Jess said, "He's been helping the boy," she said sounding ice cold.

Dean's agitation seemed to fade at her explanation.

"Bring him in here," Dean said moving aside to let him in.

Jess pushed him in so that he tripped over his own feet and stumbled to the floor. Dam she was a good actress. When he looked up, he caught sight of Sam's chained form.

He barely had started to push himself up off the ground when Sam let out a horrible scream. He looked at Dean. Anger was written all over his face. He looked back at Sam. Abruptly, his scream stopped and his head slumped forward limply.

"Keep an ear on them," He heard Dean say sharply with narrowed eyes to Jess as they walked out. "No one is to come in here until I come back."

When the door closed, the lights went out. All was dark. It was starting to become common place to him, being in the dark.

"Sam?" he asked.

Silence.

Standing up in the dark was disconcerting but he managed. In the darkness he put his hands out in front of himself and felt around. Since it was a small space he found Sam almost as soon as he put his hands out. There was a small intake of breath when he touched Sam.

"Sorry," Daniel said.

Sam's shirt was damp. He felt for an arm and followed it up. He messed with the chains for a few minutes before Sam's quiet voice asked him to stop.

"That hurts," he said simply. "Everything hurts."

"Its me, Daniel," he said.

"Daniel," he heard Sam speak. "Why did you come here?"

"I said I would help and it looks like you could use some help," he answered.

Sam was quiet.

"Sam?" he asked, afraid the boy had gone unconscious.

"Understatement," Sam said.

Daniel sighed.

"You shouldn't have come," Sam Said. "He'll only kill you now."

"Who's 'He'?" Daniel asked.

"The demon," Sam replied, "The one in Dean."

"Well, first of all, _He_ is a _she_," Daniel said.

He heard a small laugh.

"A girl in Dean?" Sam said amused.

Daniel smiled a little.

"So it would seem".

Sam was quiet for a while. He was about call out his name again when Sam finally spoke.

"Can you exorcise me?" Sam asked quietly.

"Ex-Exorcise you?" Daniel repeated thinking of just what that meant.

"He's in me," Sam said.

"Who?" Daniel asked.

Sam's voice was so quiet he had to strain to hear it.

"Azazel," he said. "The yellow eyed demon."

"But Bobby said you-"

"What?" Sam said, his voice strong and steady, if not challenging. "That little Sammy killed me?"

Laughter filled the air.

"You're not Sam," Daniel said warily.

"Smart cookie," Sam's voice answered. "And even if you remembered the words, it would take a lot more than a simple exorcism to get rid of dear 'ol me."

Daniel backed up until he hit the wall behind him.

"You see, I happen to like where I am," the yellow eyed demon said.

"How?" Daniel asked.

"Doesn't matter," the demon replied. "I'm the only thing keeping Sammy boy alive, so I would advise against doing anything that would…harm me."

"How long have you been in him?" Daniel asked next.

The demon smirked.

"Long time Danny," he said. "Right after I got shot with that pretty little gun of yours I would reckon."

Daniel was silent thinking over the time line of events and how this could have happened.

"Sammy took a dip into my mind," Azazel explained. "He left behind a trail. I followed it and ended up in Sammy land. Nasty stuff going into other peoples minds, you never know what you'll catch or leave behind."

So that explained that.

"The demon girl outside," the demon asked switching gears. "You're working with her aren't you?"

Daniel didn't reply.

"Oh don't worry," the demon said at his silence. "The pretty little thing inside Dean doesn't know a thing about that...at least for now."

"Then how do you know that?" Daniel asked defiance slipping into his words.

"Well, you see, Sammy didn't just stick to my head," the demon said. "Nope. He went into hers."

"And just like me, there's a path to her mind from Sam's," the demon explained. "And unlike Sam, she is well protected and I can't get an iota of information out of her other than that she's standing out in the hall way."

"Then how do you know that we're together?" Daniel challenged.

"Call it intuition," the demon answered. "Or rather, experience."

Daniel frowned.

"You know her?" he asked.

"I'd recognize her aura anywhere," Azazel said. "I was so sure Sammy boy here would've taken her out right after me. He must not have been as effective as he thought, I mean, look at me."

Daniel's mind was running over everything Bobby had told him. The only girl that he had mentioned was the girl that had been with Sam when Sam had shot him in the parking lot. What was her name?

"Ruby always was a tricky one," Azazel said. "Never could be quite sure where her allegiance fell. Are you sure she's on your side?"

That answered his question of why the girl seemed to know more about Sam than would seem possible considering the reasons she had told him for knowing. It didn't explain why she seemed to have such faith in him to fix this all. Sam had killed her, or at least tried to. They had seemingly betrayed each other. Their story had ended bitterly and violently. Why would she care about him as much as he seemed to? If anything, he would think she would be on this Lilith demons side in wanting to hurt Sam.

"We have a guest," the demon said abruptly.

* * *

The door opened and the lights were on once more, though dimmer than before. A young woman walked in. She looked at each of them, her eyes assessing them as if they were pieces of meat.

Sam watched her with weary eyes. He was back in control now. It seemed that the yellow eyed demon didn't want anyone other than Daniel to know of his existence just yet.

His head felt like it would explode. He couldn't explain why. The pain had just come out of nowhere. It had felt like someone was ripping something out of his head. The sudden emptiness that followed only confused and hurt his head more. On top of that the demon had just revealed that Ruby was still alive and that Daniel was working with her. Just when he had begun to trust the man, there truly was no one he could trust. Not even himself anymore.

As he watched the girl a memory came back to him, the image of a weary dark haired girl getting into the impala and boldly asking who he was. They had picked her up before Dean, or rather the demon controlling him, left him on the side of that cold highway. He had never learned what her name was.

Was she being used like the yellow eyed demon had used him?

In the girl's hand was a jagged looking knife. He knew that knife. It was Ruby's. Seeing that only cemented in his mind what side Ruby was on, if she was in fact alive and in the hall. The little fact about demons lying was ingrained in his mind.

One look into the girls eyes and he knew she meant them no good. He had to know if she was here of her own free will.

_Does it really matter?_ a voice echoed in his mind. It was the demon making his presence known.

"You don't have to do this," Sam said.

The girl shook her head and laughed quietly to herself. Looking up at him, she smirked.

"You're hardly in a position to stop me," she told him haughtily with a hand on her hip and her head tilted in a way that taunted him.

The whole manner in which girl presented herself made him angry. Sure she had been bold, but she had not been this brash when she had first gotten into the Impala all those weeks ago. He struggled to get free, knowing it was futile, but needing an outlet for his anger.

As if sensing the anger in him and enjoying it, she winked at him and then turned toward Daniel who was standing as far away as he could in the small room.

"You can't stop me," she reiterated. "I like this way too much to stop."

He could only watch as the girl raised the hand carrying the knife to Daniel face and ran along the side of his head leaving a thin trail of blood in its wake. Daniel made no sound. He didn't even twitch.

This girl was nuts.

He struggled even more fiercely. While he didn't trust Daniel, he still owed the man for nearly killing him. Standing as still as possible, Daniel stood just stood there, letting her have her way. But the closer he watched, he realized that Daniel was keeping her eyes on his face while his hands reached for one of the knives on the small table just inches away from his grasp.

The only warning the girl gave, was a small laugh before she plunged the knife into the arm that was reaching for the table. That wasn't the end though. Daniel yells filled the small space as she began to twist the knife, bringing the man to his knees.

"I'm not stupid you know," she said smirk planted firmly on her face.

"Stop!" Sam shouted.

Unexpectedly, the girl did just that. Standing up straight she turned around to face Sam.

"Only if you tell me what you've got up your sleeve that has my master so interested in you," She said.

Sam shook his head.

"She already knows," he replied.

The girl turned back to Daniel who was now leaning against the wall breathing hard. She bent down to his level, firmly grabbed the knife and pulled it out eliciting a strangled gasp from Daniel. She stood back up, turned to Sam and walked up to him, so that their faces, were just inches apart. She raised the knife so that it was pointing straight at where his heart was.

"Your crappy visions, the demon exorcising, and on and on, sure," this girl said. "That's not what he wants to know."

Sam hissed as the girl pressed to knife against his chest and pulled it across his skin tearing his shirt as it traveled. The longer she did it though, the more it hurt until it felt like the knife was burning his skin. Then it was no more. He opened his eyes, and saw her looking at him as if she wasn't quite sure what to make of him.

"You glow when I break your skin," she said, "Yet not as bright as a demon would."

Sam stared at her, not really seeing her, just trying to stay conscious. She took his blank look as one of confusion at what she was talking about.

"This knife," she said bringing it back up to his chest "Is a demon killing knife."

Sam rolled his eyes.

The girl narrowed hers in anger then stuck the knife into his shoulder.

Sam could only gasp as a burning feeling overtook him as he felt his control fading fast.

Ava hastily took a step backwards as the chains holding Sam up snapped abruptly. The manacles were next, falling to the ground with a thud.

"Idiot girl," he said. "I know what that knife does."

He reached over in obvious pain, and with a grimace pulled the knife out, letting it drop to the floor.

* * *

This wasn't the boy she had been tormenting just seconds ago. The person standing before her exuded a dangerous aura. One look into his eyes and she feared for her life. The thought brought up a vision she had had. The similarities were there, but the differences were frightening. In the end though, she had underestimated him. She wasn't even supposed to be here. Dean would kill her if he knew but the need to see for herself, why this boy was so fascinating to him, pushed her to come. The demon in the hall hadn't been any trouble to get by. Her powers had grown significantly in her time here.

In the blink of an eye, the boy had her pinned to the wall behind her, his hand holding her up at her throat, choking her.

"Go on," She taunted. "Finish it."

In her vision, he hadn't been able to kill her. But she was sure he hadn't been possessed in that dream. Maybe it wasn't time to mouth off. She needed leverage.

"I know what you are," she said her voice raspy.

"And that helps you how?" Sam said tilting his head to the side.

He was right. It was time for a new strategy.

"I can keep a secret," she said. "Let me help you."

He smiled and slowly shook his head.

"You'll go where ever there is power," he said. "In any other time I would admire that trait, but the stakes are too high to deal with the likes of you right now."

His words offended her, but she was in no position to object. His grip was getting tighter and her head was feeling light.

"I have all I need," he said gesturing at his body.

She gasped for air.

"I could kill you," he said smiling at her in way that made her skin crawl. In a last ditch effort she kicked out at him, but he didn't budge.

"You would already be dead if I had my way," he said. "But it seems little Sammy here objects to that."

"I think I'll humor him this time," he said letting her go watching coldly as she fell to the ground next to the unmoving body of the old man. Distractedly, she thought of how the man shouldn't be unconscious like that. She had only stabbed his arm not his chest or anything like that.

Where was Dean? In her dream he had come for her. Why had he not come now?

Above her she heard a dark laugh.

"You think he loves you?" he said derisively. "He couldn't care less."

Her eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"You're wrong!" she said forcefully.

"He's just a passenger along for the ride," he explained. "The demon possessing him isn't a handsome prince. She's practically the queen of hell."

"Demon?" she said shaking her head. "No he said-"

"Who cares what she said," the voice above her said. "Demons lie. I thought you knew that."

"No," she said still shaking her head. "Demons are evil. Dean said we were going to save the world."

"Depending on your point of view," the demon said.

"You're the demon," she said. "You're the one lying."

She saw him smirk.

"Have it your way then," the demon said.

Then everything went black.

* * *

Stupid girl, he thought.

She had guts, but definitely not brains. She was too easily led by her emotions. Thank goodness he had not wasted any more time on her than the minimal amount he already had. Sure she was easy to manipulate, but that was a two way street that depended on just who was doing the manipulating.

He had let her live. She was unconscious but alive. He figured that once he took care of Lilith he could come back and have his way with her, she was a pretty little thing after all, before he found a good use for her or killed her. He smiled at the revulsion he felt coming form Sam at that thought. There was nothing Sammy would do about it. As far as he was concerned, this body was his until the foreseeable future. No more would Sam come out to play.

He stepped out of the room. There was no trace of the traitor Ruby, she wasn't dumb after all.

Finding Lilith wouldn't be as easy as he had planned it being. The thread linking the two brothers together had been broken. No longer could he sense Lilith as easily as he had been able to just hours ago. He had to give credit to Dean for taking the initiative to severe the bond and for figuring out the perils that it was bringing on them. He also had to thank Dean for adding the straw that broke the camels back. Sam was very weak now; almost too weak. He had to be careful. Sam was a very necessary part of the overall plan. He couldn't go on killing the kid. Sure there were ways that he could be brought back, but that was a hassle he really wanted to avoid.

Once he was outside in the dark of the night, he stretched out his senses and searched the area for Lilith. She was not far at all, holding out in a church a few streets over.

He walked confidently, his destination now clear in his mind.

* * *

Hiding within the shadows of the building, Jess watched Azazel start walking away. Just as Lilith had asked of her, she had listened very closely to everything that had been said within that room. When that snotty Ava had come by claiming to have been sent by "Dean" she had objected as was expected of her. But that was just a ruse, she wanted to see what would happen if the girl provoked Sam and what better test subject than that sad excuse for a person. She had fallen to Ava's powers, but only in appearances. Let the girl think she was hot stuff.

As soon as her suspicions had been confirmed, she had cloaked her presence and hidden herself. Of course she wasn't about to tell Lilith a word about what she had heard. The other demon would figure everything out soon anyway.

There had to be someway to bring Sam out somehow, someway to ignite his determination and desire to fight, if only for just one last time.

She owed it to him to help him fix this.


	18. Chapter 18 Save the world

**Chapter 18**

**Save the world**

_Who's gonna save the world tonight? _

_Who's gonna bring you back to life? _

_We're gonna make it you and I _

_We're gonna save the world tonight._

_Swedish house mafia, Save the world_

* * *

The sky above was dark, no trace of any stars or even the moon. Silence ruled the air. It was cold, really cold. He could feel his body shivering, but there was nothing he could do. He was powerless and weak against the demon that was currently walking his body toward a light in the not too far distance.

He knew the light was the church and he knew what it meant. He had seen this all in his head. He knew how it would end too. His visions always came true, no matter what he did. You couldn't change destiny after all. The stubbornness that had spurred him on to fight fate, had long fled him now.

So after all the running, all the guilt, all the pain, Sam Winchester accepted that this was how it would all end: at the hands of the yellow eyed demon. It was truly poetic.

The being who started it all would end it all.

* * *

John watched the space in front of him rather bemusedly. He couldn't honestly remember how he'd gotten here.

_A church?_

He hadn't noticed it before.

In his hand was a glass bottle. He raised it to his lips and took a gulp.

_Why was he drinking when he wasn't even thirsty?_

He threw the bottle away from himself, hearing the sound of shattering glass follow.

_Why was he sitting on the floor?_

Leaning against a wall he vaguely made note of the pulpit to his right and the pews to his left.

_Why was he here?_

Everything was so fuzzy. His mind refused to cooperate with him. His body seemed to be disconnected from his brain. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get up.

"Don't strain yourself daddy," a voice said from...somewhere...out there.

He was drunk. The realization came slowly. His mind thought for several minutes. How in the world had he gotten this drunk? And while on a hunt?

"Here," Dean said seemingly materializing out of nowhere in front of him. "Have another."

He looked down at his hand. An ice cold beer was now within his grasp.

"Drink," Dean said before walking away.

Even though he didn't want to, he found the liquid sliding down his throat as he held the bottle up to his mouth.

It all felt so wrong. He wasn't even thinking about the drinking in a church part though. What felt off was Dean. Daddy? It had been years since he had heard that word directed at him. And while the word made him think of more innocent times, the delivery left him feeling cold. It was like Dean was mocking him...or was he?

Dam this drunken haze.

He looked at the bottle still in his hand. This wasn't what he came here to do.

* * *

There was a movement in darkness behind him. They were being followed. He could feel his mouth smiling against his will. No doubt in anticipation of what was coming next.

_Ruby._

She was the blond girl following him all this time, showing at those times when he didn't even know he needed her. How was she still alive? He had seen her fall to the ground after he had stabbed her with that knife. He had seen the flashes of light beneath her skin. She had been dead. It had been justice. She had gotten what she deserved. So what was she doing here now?

He walked into the alley.

The next few minutes came straight out of his dream. The only difference now was that he was a participant rather than an observer. Well, that is, depending on what your definition of _participant_ was.

As soon as Ruby had followed him into the shadows of the alley, he eagerly grabbed her and slammed her into a wall. As his fist pelted the girl into submission and his blood was used to draw the symbol that would trap her, he couldn't help but revel in the justice of it all; before promptly feeling sick that he had enjoyed any of it at all.

The feeling of being sick only got worse when he consciously recognized the smell of blood; his blood. The smell took him back to that first time he had woken up to find himself in a room where the walls were smeared with blood and a woman laid on the bed brutally broken beyond repair. This time though, instead of just remembering what he saw when he woke, he saw himself committing the act. And not only that, but enjoying it as well.

Quickly he struggled to shut away the unwelcome memory. His head felt like it was going to split. It seemed the memory was inflicting as much pain on him as Azazel had on that poor woman.

"I'm taking over now," the demon whispered under his breath. "A brain can only hold so many thoughts and memories and definitely not the both of ours."

Amid the pain, Sam was confused.

_It doesn't work like that._

The demon responded to him through thought._  
_

_Oh, but Sammy boy, you're different. We're different. We're writing the books on this one. By all rights I shouldn't be here, but I am. Besides, grateful as I am, I rather like the idea of destroying you so completely._

_It thought you couldn't get rid of me just yet, that you needed me, _Sam countered.

_That's true, but I only need the part of you that will say yes when asked. And for you to say yes, I'm gonna have to get rid of quite of bit of you._

What could he do?

_The more you see of me, the less you will have of you_, the demon explained.

This didn't happen in his vision. This wasn't supposed to happen.

_Who do you think sent you that vision?_ the demon answered.

Suddenly Sam could remember all the times the demon had manipulated him into thinking he had everything under control. He could feel the joy the demon experienced in leading him to think he was in charge that he had the power to resist the demon at any time when in reality he was following the demons every whim. He could see how the demon picked and chose each part of that vision and wove it together to form an imperfect image of what Sam had thought was the future set in stone. He had thought he understood the magnitude of the machinations the demons had had planned for him all along, but it was never as simple at that, even as complicated as it had seemed.

He was so brilliantly stupid it hurt to think.

The demon started showing him all the times Sam had thought he was all that, when in reality the demon was laughing at him behind hooded eyes.

_The more you see of me, the less you will have of you..._

He couldn't be seeing this. He had to stop this. But no matter where he turned or looked, the memories where there filling his mind. Closing his eyes did nothing. He saw them even then. He thought of what he was feeling physically; the breaths the demon took, the blood dripping down his arm, the chill of the air. It helped to pull him out of the memories, if only for a little while.

He was walking now, away from the alley. The church was at the other end of the street, straight ahead from where he was. Behind him he could hear heavy breathing.

"Sam," Ruby whispered. "I'm only trying to help..."

The whispered words that should have been to far away and too low for him to hear, pierced his mind like a dart. So it wasn't enough that one demon could control him so easily, there had to another that could get him to listen even when he didn't want to. If there was something above all in this doomed situation of his that he hated, it was the absolute lack of choice he got in the matter.

As he took in Ruby's words, mistrust and anger filled him even more. She had claimed to help him before and seeing how that had turned out, he wasn't about to listen to her again. If there was one true fact about her, it was that she would do anything to survive.

The walk toward the church turned out to be just as long as it had seemed in his vision. It was something that had remained true at least. The demon had said that he had picked and chosen what he wished him to see. Add that the the way that demons always seemed to base everything on a morsel of truth, some of what he had seen _had_ to be true. The hard part now was figuring out just what parts _were_ true.

* * *

Determined to stand, even though the world tilted at the oddest of angles, he stood up. Walking was a whole other challenge. It took all his concentration not to do a face plant on the ground.

He stumbled up beside the pulpit and found Dean sitting in the very first row of pews. He had one leg crossed over the other, both hands resting on the back of the bench. He looked so relaxed and carefree, not like someone who was about to kill a brother as he was. He almost looked…excited.

"Why are you just…sitting there," he asked, his vision blurring in and out. "Should we be out there," he flung his arm out in no particular direction, "looking for him?"

Dean smirked.

"Would you rather I Stood?" Dean answered.

He frowned in confusion. This wasn't the Dean he knew. Drunk as he was, he knew that for sure.

"Don't strain your brain there daddy," Dean mocked. "Weren't you the one kicking back a few beers, sitting on the floor just a moment ago?"

There Dean went calling him _daddy_ again.

He brought a hand up to his face and rubbed his eyes. If only he could think through this fog.

"Don't bother," Dean said, as if he could hear his thoughts. "Just drink it all away."

He suddenly felt the compulsion to drink once again. Raising his hand, which still held the beer from earlier, he drank deeply.

Very slowly the dots started to connect in his sluggish mind.

"Are you…forcing me…to drink?" he asked, Dean's face tilting strangely before him.

"All the better to get you pliable," Dean said.

"What are you playing at?" he asked slowly. "This isn't…isn't time for jokes."

There was that smirk again.

"Oh," Dean said, "But the jokes on you."

He leaned on the side of the pulpit for support. Staying upright was getting harder and harder to maintain.

"You're not making any sense Dean," he said closing his eyes, willing the world around him to stop moving.

Dean sat up straight.

"You seem to be under the impression that a certain son of yours will be biting the bullet tonight, kicking the bucket, or whatever expression have you."

He opened his eyes. Dean had stood up and was now pacing back in forth, his arms held behind his back.

"I on the other hand, see the big picture," Dean said. "And seeing how you are barely able to stand, I think I will be getting my way tonight."

All John could do was stare in confusion at what he was hearing.

"It's like speaking to a child," Dean said shaking his head and looking at the ground with a smile.

Once again he was left feeling cold by Dean's words. This wasn't Dean. That attitude, the words he spoke, the way he acted. This wasn't the obedient son he had raised, the one who do everything he said without complaint. Being held hostage by Sam had changed him. Sam had changed him. Sam had turned him dark. That was it.

"You're working with…him aren't you?" he accused his voice unsteadily.

The accusation only made Dean laugh.

"Me? Him? I think not," Dean said. "It would be nice though; make things go smoother you know? But that brat of yours is way too stubborn for his own good."

Dean never spoke about Sam that way, even when he was scared out of his mind of him. Whatever Sam had done had to have been horrible.

"Why won't you kill him? Rid this world of his sorry existence?" he asked.

Dean stopped and raised a finger.

"That would only satisfy your need for revenge," Dean said. "And even then, it won't be as rewarding as you think."

"No," Dean continued, "Sam is more important than you can ever dream of; too important to kill off in some false sense of justice."

He just stood there frozen to the spot, not believing a word he was hearing.

"You ask too many questions," Dean said waving his hand.

Before he could comprehend what was happening, he was moving through the air thinking silly thoughts of how he had never been able to fly like this before.

* * *

Suddenly there was a loud banging noise that filled the entire church.

"Ah, dearest brother...You've finally arrived," Lilith said loudly, sounding joyous. "Do you come to accept your fate? Or to tempt it?"

It was strange to say the least to look at Dean now, knowing there was a distinctly female presence possessing him. Did Dean know? The demon took a few steps into the isle.

He looked to the wall and saw his father sprawled against the wall. He looked dazed.

"Accepting fate would be…too predictable of me," Azazel replied.

Sam would have rolled his eyes if he could.

"Demon spawn!" John yelled out drunkenly, staring at him with bulging eyes.

It seemed that hearing his voice set the man off. He was now standing, albeit unsteadily, looking every bit the drunken unhinged man he knew him to be. He looked like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks, or even a meal. He took a few steps, stumbling around a smug looking Dean, a dark look in his eyes.

"You," his father spat out. "You pushed him to this." he said gesturing at Dean.

"Absolutely," Azazel said, fully embracing the opportunity to provoke the other man. "But I can't take full credit. You have performed rather admirably in helping them along. For that I thank you daddy Winchester."

He felt himself bow mockingly toward his dad.

When he straightened his back, he could see the barely restrained anger simmering in his father's eyes.

"Come and get me daddy," Azazel said.

With a roar of furry, John exploded into action. Sam was on the ground before he could blink, his father on top of him both hands around his neck, choking him.

Azazel's only answer was to laugh and spit in the face of his attacker.

"You fool," he taunted, before sending John flying head first through the air to land among the pews painfully.

Picking himself off the ground gracefully, Azazel stood once again.

"I can feel dearest Deanie in there," Azazel spoke, making his voice low and dangerous, "Just itching to get out and wrap his hands around my throat like his no good father."

That couldn't be true. But maybe it could. Dean didn't know he was possessed. For all appearances, he _was_ evil. But the thought still hurt. He knew he wasn't savable, but surely Dean couldn't have given up that easily on him?

* * *

Dean, or rather Lilith, smiled.

"You would like that wouldn't you."

He felt himself step closer to the other demon.

"All the better to look into those eyes and see the pain in them," Azazel taunted. "Pain that I caused."

"Let's not get too prideful here," Lilith said, "You can't get all the credit for that. Your words, not mine."

He had to admit, she was right. If his life wasn't at stake here, and if the demon in front of him wasn't so keen on ending his existence, then he might have gone ahead and started working with her. She had mind for torture and all sorts of things that demons like him lived for. It was with her help that this angsty little party was happening in the first place. But then again, demon alliances never worked out. Point in case, Ruby.

"So what do we do now?" Lilith voiced. "The both of us...two powerful entities both working toward the same goal."

"Indeed," Azazel replied coldly. "But only one of us can rule until that goal is accomplished."

The demon in front of him crossed its arms and tilted it's head.

"I take it you expect to be the one over us all," Lilith replied.

He smiled.

"Naturally."

Lilith crossed her (or rather her hosts) arms.

"Lucifer's vessel or not, how do you expect to overcome me?" she taunted.

That was not as much of a threat to him as she probably hoped it would be. She was still under the belief that he was simply little Sammy Winchester with an attitude. But that would be her downfall. He had a plan. He always did. You didn't survive amongst demons without thinking ahead. Before she would know what hit her, he would bind Lilith to himself. As soon as he had bound her to him, she would be unable to overthrow him, unable to refuse his orders, and would be a valuable tool in getting the work done. And she wouldn't even know his true identity until it was all over.

He had not resorted to this method with Ruby and he had paid for it. He had thought Ruby a simple demon that could easily be quenched if she got in his way. Not so. Lilith was certainly not a simple demon. Truth be told she was higher up on the pay scale than he was, way up. Underestimating her like he did Ruby, would get him killed faster than he could blink.

Lilith only smiled, unaware of his thoughts.

"My how you forget," he replied. "How do you think our master would feel if he found out that you killed his chosen vessel?"

"You would do good to bow before me," he continued with authority. "I made it so that the doors would open so that you could escape hell."

"You can't just waltz in here and take control," he said. "You will learn your place."

Lilith started screaming out in pain right then, crumbling to the ground. He had not even had to lift a hand. Then just as quick as it had come, Lilith stopped screaming.

"That's a new one." the demon on the floor gritted out.

"I am the master's chosen vessel for a reason," he answered with a sly grin.

"Very clever of you," Lilith said standing up. "But there is one colossal crack in your bullet proof plan."

"And just what is that?" he asked intrigued.

Lilith only smiled.

The smile quickly disappeared in the next moment.

"S-Sam?" what now was now clearly Dean asked stumbling forward toward him like a person who had just learned to walk. "Why are you doing this?"

Clever girl, he thought. But that didn't really matter. Sam was so weak; he'd never be able to do anything, no matter how much his brother pleaded. He would have fun with this.

"Remember after you got out of the hospital on Christmas?" Dean said walking right up to him so that he standing directly in front of him. "You told me that nothing could ever make up for all the bad things you did, not even saving my life, remember?" Dean said, his voice pleading.

He rolled his eyes. Of all the sentimental crap. Did this boy seriously think that would work? The only thing he was accomplishing was making him want to vomit all over the offending person standing in front of him.

"This is your chance," Dean said. "You move forward with this, you do what you came here to do tonight, you'll doom this whole world, millions of lives will be lost, and you will only have been used."

He said nothing back. He wouldn't give reason to this thoughtless excuse of a person.

"Do you really understand what you're doing?" Dean asked. It was obvious he was still hoping Sam was innocent in all of this.

He couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

"Do you even hear how pathetic you sound?" he said.

Dean only looked at him with the utmost hurt in his eyes.

"And you thought I was the one with the puppy eyes," he said upon seeing the pitiful look on the boy's face.

The look of sadness quickly morphed into anger.

_That's more like it,_ he thought.

Dean backed away.

"You know," he said pointing a finger. "I've believed in you this whole time."

He smiled. He could feel Sam's white hot anger burning deep within himself. It made him feel strong.

"Oh well, boo who for you," he said.

Soon Lilith would realize the error of her ways. It was time to act.

He froze Dean in his tracks and grabbed his arm. Using Sam's long untrimmed nails, he scratched a long deep line on Dean's arms. It was crude, but he needed the blood, and this was all he had. With his other hand, he smeared Sam's blood on it, the blood he had spilled in the alley. Holding the two blood covered hands together he started chanting in Latin.

Lilith was quick on the uptake, but he was a demon in Satan's vessel. He had access to an unlimited source of untapped power that she just couldn't cope with.

There was no brilliant flash of light or dramatic collapsing on anyone's part when he was finished. It simply was done. Dean stood, an angry look that was not befitting him plastered on his face.

"Who are you?" she asked bitterly. "WHO ARE YOU!"

He only smirked as he noticed a certain forgotten Winchester standing up, his hands bracing himself against the benches.

"Ah, daddy Winchester," he said loudly. "Nice of you to join us at last."

At the very sound of his voice, the older man's face contorted into anger.

"I have a proposition for you," he offered walking toward the front of the church, side stepping an angry Lilith. "A little deal if you will."

"I'm gonna kill you," John threatened.

"Please," he said. "With what?"

He walked closer to John.

"Did you know that your most favored son Deanie here is possessed?" he asked, savoring the suddenly wide eyed look that came over the other man's face.

"No," John said, an uncertain smile on his face. "You're lying."

He turned toward Dean.

"Come," he ordered.

Just like that he came, glaring at him all the way.

"Now show daddy here, your pretty eyes," he ordered.

For a few moments nothing happened as Lilith fought hard to disobey, but with a pointed glare he forced her to finally obey.

John gasp was music to his ears.

"You should be honored John," he said with a smile. "Your boy was possessed by none other than Lilith, the first demon our father Lucifer ever created."

The look on John's face only got more comical in his disbelief and dismay.

"How could you..." he said his words barely passing his lips, It was as of all the air had been knocked out of him. "Your own brother?"

"Stop playing with him," a new voice said joined the party.

Turning around he saw it was the blond girl, a.k.a. Ruby. He sneered.

"What," he said, "So you can have a turn?"

She glared at him and squinted her eyes.

"Smart," she said.

He turned back to John. Ruby wasn't worth his time. He had a deal to close.

"About his deal-" he started. But he didn't get to finish.

"The father's soul for the Son's," she finished for him.

She walked up the isle until she was just feet away from them. She looked directly at John, ignoring him, further infuriating him. "He needs you in hell so you can break the first seal to get Lucifer out of his cage."

John only looked at her like he didn't' know what she was talking about. That was that alcohol at work, a simple plan so full of win.

"Do you want Dean to live out his life possessed by a demon, knowing you're in hell and that his kid brother is destined to be the devils vessel all while being possessed by the demon that killed your wife?"

She did not just say that.

He turned an angry glare her way and raised a hand. She was like cockroach never dying when she was supposed to and annoying the hell out of you at the worst of times. Within seconds, faint wisps of black were escaping from her mouth. He was going to squash her like the bug she was.

If he wasn't so focused on her, then he might have noticed the other man that was quickly nearing him, demon killing knife poised at the ready. As the knife sunk into his back, and he sunk into the background of Sam's mind, he could only think of how stupid he had been not to see this one coming. Hadn't he been all about not underestimating Ruby just minutes ago?

* * *

Abruptly he was back in control. And it was just in time too as Sam began to fall toward the ground next to him. Catching him, he was able to slide him over to a bench and sit him down on his side.

"Sam?" he asked wildly. He eyed the knife in his back, but did not do anything to remove it. He had so many questions. Mainly what had caused the sudden change in his attitude, why he was collapsing now, and…

Then he looked at the knife and really looked at Sam. There were tiny flashes beneath his skin. It was just as he had heard Bobby tell him what had happened to Ruby before she had seemingly died. Why was this happening to Sam? The cogs in his brain worked quickly.

"Out of the way," Ruby said pushing him forcefully away.

"He was possessed?" he asked stupidly.

"Azazel has more tricks up your sleeve than you can imagine," she explained. "He probably has been in him ever since Spokane."

Dean's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Same with you and Lilith,"

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. Neither it seemed did his dad.

"You're all lying!" he yelled out.

Ruby didn't even spare a glance in his father's direction. He didn't either.

"Sam?" she said slapping him on the cheek. "Come on now, this isn't over yet."

Sam blinked at her then sat up straighter.

"What do you want?" he asked weakly, the look on his face deeply mistrusting of the girl in front of him.

He waited for her answer. It was something he wanted to know too.

"Doesn't matter," she said sidestepping the question.

"I think we deserve an explanation," he said, trying to sound more authoritative than he felt.

She only looked at him and he knew he wouldn't be getting an answer.

"I need to you to access my memories," she said turned back to Sam. "The exorcism is there. I can finish it, but you need to start it."

Sam just stared back at Ruby, not saying anything. Then he looked at Dean.

"What about Dean?" he asked.

He had not thought of himself.

"You get rid of Azazel you get rid of Lilith," she answered. He voice was much calmer when she spoke to Sam than him. "Stupid idiot bound her to him."

Sam seemed to think for a moment.

"What about you?" he asked. "Won't this..."

She smiled and tilted her head as if to say _oh well_.

"I'm not even supposed to be here, Sam," she replied.

"So you really are...helping us? Sam asked his voice turning into a whisper.

Dean watched the whole exchange as a stranger.

"You have my memories," Ruby said. "You know what these words will do."

Sam nodded then looked at him. It was only a moment before Sam looked away, but in that moment it was as if Sam was silently saying goodbye to him. Why? Wouldn't this only free them from the evil binding them? It wasn't as if they would die from it. Unless Sam was more hurt than he looked?

He remembered how he had beaten Sam, how their dad had shot him, how there was currently a knife embedded in his back and then he understood.

But before he could say anything Sam had started reciting Latin.

"What are you doing?" John said.

He had forgotten he was here, or maybe he had been ignoring him. He saw him try and make a move toward Sam out of the corner of his eye but before he could get close; another man wrapped his arms around John and stopped him from moving any further.

When he saw who it was, memories rose in his mind and confusion overcame him. It was Daniel. He remembered seeing him not that long ago at all, but he had been preoccupied with other things that he hadn't fully registered who he was seeing at the time. If he remembered correctly, Ruby had been the one to turn him in.

This was getting more and more confusing every second with people popping up out of the woodwork who were either risen from the dead or long forgotten.

"Get off me!" John yelled doing his best to buck Daniel off. It would've been funny if not for the severity of situation at hand.

He turned back to Sam. Listening to the words lulled him. Soon though, he noticed that the words weren't coming as fast, or as calmly. Sam was starting to struggle. With Sam's struggle, he noticed the demon in his head slowly coming back to the forefront of his mind. Ruby started saying the words too.

Viscous red hot anger filled him, but it wasn't his own. He fought against the tide of emotions as he watched Sam. He could see that Sam was struggling too.

Not expecting it, he suddenly found himself on the ground. Distracted, the anger in his mind took over and as he turned around for the source of his fall, he saw red.

The first thing he saw was his father struggling within Daniel's failing grasp. As he watched the pathetic excuse for a man, he couldn't find any words to describe how he felt about his father, if he even still thought of him as that. With all the anger pulsing through him, he practically flew at John, tackling him to the ground, barely missing taking Daniel down too. His fists were flying before they even landed on the ground.

"We wouldn't be here if you actually cared about us," Dean accused. "You turned your back on Sammy."

Every word was enunciated by a punch.

"What hunter, let alone father, walks away from his kids not knowing they're possessed?"

* * *

This was getting out of hand.

Dean was making valid points, but he was going to do himself in if he kept going on like he was. Dean he could help at least in this moment. Sam was being taken care of by...Ruby. It was strange calling her that.

But instead of helping Dean, he ended up with a bloody nose as Dean turned around with a murderous look on his face and his fist had come flying at his face before he could even contemplate what it meant. One look into those eyes and he knew that this was not Dean. He also knew that this demon controlling him, this Lilith, was out for blood; and at the moment, his.

"You stupid hunter," Lilith muttered grabbing his throat with both hands, turning him around, and pushing him into a bench. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed John moving toward Sam.

There was nothing he could do.

* * *

With every word she felt herself getting weaker and weaker.

Her hands were gripped tight on Sam's arms. It served as an anchor for her, to remind her just why she was doing what she doing.

This was all for Sam. It always was. But this time it was actually for his own good. Not for hers or Azazel's. In fact it was more than detrimental for them, Lilith too. It would end their existence.

But she was okay with that. She was lucky to be alive at all. You could only cheat death so many times before he caught up to you after all.

No one would really believe her if she explained why she was helping Sam now. And why would they? They would think it was all just an act; just another way to survive another day.

So thanks but no thanks. They didn't need to know why. They never would. She would be gone and Sam would be free.

Well mostly.

There was no telling just how connected they were and Azazel sure wouldn't be evicted without a fight causing who knows what damage to Sam; damage she couldn't do anything about…or could she?

Sam wasn't speaking the words anymore. Azazel was fighting to come forward.

Perhaps if she altered the words...just a little...

A commotion behind her caused her to stop speaking.

It was the sound of many people coming in through the wide open doors from outside and they didn't look like they were going to help her.

When she looked back at Sam it wasn't Sam she saw. John had stepped between her and Sam and drug him a few feet away. He was now alternating between shaking him violently and punching him ruthlessly. The words he spewed at Sam made her see red. She wanted nothing more than to send this man to hell where he belonged, but that wouldn't help anyone at all and would only play into Azazel's hands as that was the plan all along.

She looked back at the people coming closer to her. _Where was Daniel_?

_Focus!_ she told herself.

She thought quickly of the words she needed to alter the ritual, and then spoke them, as quickly, yet clearly as she could manage. Fighting them all physically would not do nearly the amount of damage that simply finishing the spell would. So closing her eyes, she spoke, determined to succeed.

Even when hands grabbed her, pushed her to the ground, and weapons pierced her, she still spoke.

When the last word was spoken she felt her aggressors let her go. She opened her eyes and was briefly rewarded with the sight of dying demons thrashing as they faded away and collapsed to the ground. She was able to push herself up and look around. John had stopped pummeling Sam. He was now lying on the floor dazed, his face bloody and bruised. A look of fear on his face at what was happening.

Sam sat hunched on his side on a bench looking on the edge of death or at least on the edge of a short fall to the ground below.

She smiled sadly at him as their eyes connected. For that one moment everything was ok. The next she was falling backward to the ground while the world around her faded to black.

* * *

The moment he had started speaking the words that Ruby had told him to, he had felt Azazel renewing his effort to break free. He had fought back right away and continued speaking. But soon it was all just too much to do. It was one or the other. Keep Azazel at bay or speak. If he spoke then Azazel would be free and the spell would never be completed. If he kept Azazel at bay, then Ruby could finish it. It was a no brainer.

Easier said than done though.

Especially once a person who he more than suspected to be his dad had come between him and Ruby and started bringing a whole new meaning of pain to his worn out body.

He had held out as long as he could which, while it felt like ages probably wasn't that long at all. Azazel had broken free and started turning the abuse back on his dad before going for Ruby. By then there were a whole boatload of people crowded in the church around the girl. He didn't have to go far to know why they were there. Azazel's thoughts were playing loud and clear in his head.

But in the nick of time, even among the noise of the gathered crowd, he heard Ruby speak what he knew to be the last word of the ritual. Almost immediately, the crowd stopped attacking and hands went to their heads as one by the people around him collapsed to the floor. He would have followed if not for his still being close to the bench and his quick thinking to lean toward the bench rather than away.

He closed his eyes in pain.

His mind was slowly starting to feel like a fire that was growing hotter and hotter, burning him from the inside out. Opening his eyes, he found that he was looking directly at Ruby who laid a short distance away on the floor. Their eyes connected for a moment and for that moment all was calm. But that was over as fast as it had come. The next moment his mind was a raging fire. His head felt like it would explode from it all. Memories and sounds flashed in his head in bits and pieces like a broken player. The world around him shook and he felt himself moving without a clue as to how, why or where.

Yellow eyes glared at him through it all.

_You will not escape this unscathed!_ a voice threatened. _I will ruin you!_

He didn't care what the voice said. He just wanted it to stop and as if listening to him, it all suddenly stopped. For a moment he just was. He relished the nothingness for a moment and then realized a happy truth.

"I'm free," he said.

With that realization, he felt lighter than he had in months. He felt like he was flying, but that changed as he felt himself breaking to pieces. It was as if he breaking into hundreds of smaller pieced and they were flying away from his grasp, flying away into the distant light while he was left behind in the darkness.

It made no sense at all and the more he tried to make sense of it, the less sense it made as his consciousness fell apart and his ability to reason all but disappeared along with being able to put together coherent thoughts.


	19. Chapter 19 Square one

**Chapter 19**

**Square one**

_Lost and insecure  
You found me,  
Lyin' on the floor  
Surrounded,  
Why'd you have to wait?  
_

_You found me, The Fray_

* * *

"Sam! Sam!"

_Panic..._

Breath in, Breath out.

_Moving..._

"Drive faster!"

_Shaking..._

Hands grabbing him, metal touching his skin.

_Cold..._

"He's coding on us, get the paddles."

_Burning fire..._

"He's waking up,"

_Blades cutting skin._

"Increase the morphine."

_Fading white walls._

Beep, beep, beep.

_Someone sobbing._

"...unresponsive to pain stimuli..."

_Numbness..._

"It's up to him...there's nothing more we can do."

_Silence..._

_Stillness..._

"We have to get him out of here."

_Moving..._

_The sound of an engine running..._

"It's gonna be ok, I got you."

_Something soft touching his skin..._

_Warmth..._

"Please wake up..."

_Someone holding his hand._

_A Bright light in his eye._

"Nothings changed."

_A familiar scent._

_The sound of a sigh._

"That brother of yours is running himself ragged worrying about you..."

_Dishes clinking..._

_An old movie playing..._

"It'd be real nice if you'd open your eyes..."

_Cold..._

_Moving..._

"Doc says I have to move you around every couple of hours..."

_Moving..._

_Water on his skin..._

"You stink man..."

_Being carried..._

_Stillness..._

_Silence..._

"...Please tell me your in their Sam..."

_Light, all around him..._

_A beige ceiling..._

_The sound of a moving chair..._

"His eyes are open!"

_Footsteps..._

_A face hovering above above him..._

_More touching..._

"Sam? Can you hear me?"

_Another bright light._

_Cold metal on his chest..._

_Hands touching him...moving him..._

_"_Lets sit him up...maybe that will help..."

_More faces..._

_Concerned glances..._

_Staring..._

"Squeeze my hand...please?"

_Blinking..._

_Another day..._

_Another face..._

"I won't give up on you..."

Footsteps...

Moving...

Staring at the ceiling...

"Gotta keep you fit for when...when you wake up."

_Fading light..._

_Growing night..._

_A creaking door..._

"I'm so sorry Sam."

_A voice in the darkness..._

"The things I did...I'm supposed to watch out for you...not hurt you."

_Hitched breathing..._

_Silence..._

_A new weight beside him in the bed..._

"I haven't seen dad since...

_More silence..._

_A hand grabbing his..._

_The sound of a deep breath..._

"He couldn't look me in the eye once he realized..."

_breath in, breath out..._

_Anger...Hurt..._

_Confusion..._

"You're all I have left...you and Bobby...please don't...don't leave me alone like this."

_His hand being squeezed..._

_Time passing by..._

_Night..._

_Day..._

"How about today Sam? Will you please just say something...anything?"_  
_

_Footsteps fading away..._

_Quiet emptiness..._

_Darkness..._

_Light..._

"You're not coming back are you?"

_Someone crying beside him..._

"I mean...why would you?"

_The birds chirping outside..._

"I understand Sam."

_A spoon to his mouth..._

_A savory taste filling his mouth..._

_Another day or two..._

"You probably hate me. That's why you won't say anything."

_Confusion..._

"It's ok...I hate me too."

_More time..._

_Night...day...night...day..._

_Dark...light..._

"I can't...do this anymore."

_A strange feeling..._

_Denial?_

"I'm sorry Sam. I'm so so sorry."

_Moving..._

_The bright sun in his face..._

_Driving..._

_Stopping..._

_Moving..._

_A new bed..._

_So...white..._

"I'm a coward for doing this Sam, but I just...can't handle this anymore."

_A hand on his cheek..._

"I couldn't save you...but dad...At least I can try."

_A deep breath and a sigh.._

"Goodbye Sam."

_Fading footsteps..._

I'll see you...soon."

_A door closing...  
_

_Quiet..._

_Stillness..._

_An unfamiliar person bringing food..._

_The same person helping him move..._

_Where was he?_

_The one with the sad voice?_

_The one who made him feel safe..._

_Passing nights...days..._

_So alone..._

_So lonely...  
_

_Why didn't he come back?  
_

_More moving..._

_More eating..._

_More silence..._

_More white..._

_Through the window it rains..._

_Then the sun comes out...  
_

_The sound of a door opening...  
_

_He came back!_

_A chair scrapping the ground as it was moved...  
_

"I don't suppose you remember me do you?"

_Sadness..._

_It wasn't him..._

_Where was he?_

_Why didn't he come back?_

_"I don't suppose you remember anything."_

_Wetness on his face..._

_The sound of a sigh..._

"I know pity is useless..."

_So sad..._

_So alone..._

"...but for what it's worth, I'm sorry this had to happen to you."

_Silence..._

_A warm hand squeezing his own..._

_Letting go...  
_

_The chair being put back where it had come from..._

_The door opening again and closing..._

_The all encompassing silence..._

_All alone again..._

_Alone..._

_Alone..._

_Alone..._

* * *

I hardly even really knew the kid, but walking away from him has been a serious trial.

To fight so hard, to the very end and be rewarded like this? My heart aches for the boy. Is it wrong for me to hope that Sam stayed this way and spent the rest of his life languishing in a haze of medication and white walls? Surely this was better than remembering what had brought him to this. Surely this was better than finding out what happened to his now broken family and how they had basically left him here to rot; cruel to say, but true none the less.

I almost have half a mind to put the boy out of his misery. Can I really be expected to let him lay there for the rest of his days? Letting him move on would be the kinder option, especially since I saw that tear fall down the boy's cheek. Whatever is left of his mind, it's still enough that he feels pain or sadness. Which one I can't really be sure.

Even worse, what if he's really all here just locked in an uncooperative body? I can't imagine what kind of hell that would be with only memories to keep you company. If that's the case I wouldn't hesitate to end this all for him. The compassion in me demands it.  
But how can I know if that's the case? He can't tell me and the doctors sure can't tell me either. How do I live with this choice? It's moments like these when I understand why Dean bailed.

It's moments like these that I hate that Dean left. Why should I be the one with this dilemma? I'm not even family, yet here I am. His determination to fight until the end; the preservation and determination in which he pressed onward when other people would have succumbed to doubt and fear have earned my deepest respect. I'm all Sam's got and I'm sure as hell not gonna just abandon him because I can't face the moral conundrum he's given me. I'm strong enough for this. I have to be.

As long as I'm alive, I, Daniel Elkins, will watch over Sam Winchester.

However long that will be so help me God.

**TO BE CONTINED…**

* * *

And that's the end for now folks. What did you think? Any ideas for the next story? I really do want to hear from you, even if it is only to say that you read this.


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